


When It All Ends, We'll Write Our History in the Sky

by calcitrix



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcitrix/pseuds/calcitrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lanteans left their home and joined their kin on Chian Mountain when their magic ran out at the end of the war, abandoning their allies to the remaining Wraith. Thousands of years later their descendants return, only to face an attack from Genara. Though victorious, the Lanteans know it's only a matter of time before the Genii strike again. When the Wraith reappear and another war seems imminent, Prince John discovers that the magic he'd been counting on to defend them is almost gone. When Rodney finds a way to restore their power, he sends Evan and his soldiers racing to the corners of the realm, while John leads their army against the approaching forces that are bent on the destruction of Atlantis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art For "When it All Ends, We'll Write Our History in the Sky" by Calcitrix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/530203) by [clwilson2006](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clwilson2006/pseuds/clwilson2006). 



> Heartfelt thanks to my betas, clwilson2006 and fififolle. They made this story much better! Any mistakes you see are surely mine.

“Time for sleep, John.” Jenna Sheppard turned back the covers of the bed and glanced toward where her son sat on the cushioned bench underneath the window. The weather was warm for spring, and one of the servants had opened the shutters when she'd been in to clean. Tradition dictated that a servant should be readying the child for bed as well, but Jenna saw so little of her sons at it was. She could do this much, at least, though her physicians and her husband advised against it. For a moment Jenna wondered if John had fallen asleep on the broad stone of the windowsill, but then he raised his head and fixed his bright hazel eyes on hers.

“What's the name of that star pattern?” He always had questions right at bedtime. Jenna wished that he was as inquisitive with his tutors instead of running off to pet the horses or beg the cook for sweets. She sat next to him on the bench and leaned into the night air.

Her son's small finger pointed to a bright cluster rising over the horizon. “Your father knows more about the night sky than I do,” Jenna said, smoothing down the locks of dark hair on his head that refused to be combed. "You should ask him."

“He's always busy.” John squirmed away from her hand and leaned into her lap instead. "I didn't even _see_ him today."

“Your father is selecting regents to send overseas,” Jenna told him. “Sometimes he needs to be the king first and a father second.” She placed her hand on John's head again, and he sighed, the sound turning into a yawn.

Jenna hoped that the business would be settled soon. She understood the boy's disappointment; sometimes it irked her to have a king instead of a husband. Still, current events were such that Patrick barely saw a bed these days, let alone his family. “Tell me about Atlantis, then,” John demanded sleepily.

With a wavering smile that John couldn't see, Jenna started the tale she'd heard time and time again as a child herself, when it still _was_ just a tale. "Long ago, our ancestors lived in a great city across the sea," she began. "It was a wondrous place, with sparkling towers and great shining walls. The people were prosperous and happy, for the land loved the people, and it gave them magic." Jenna paused, waiting.

John asked, as he always did, "What kind of magic?"

"All kinds. Some people could make things fly through the air. Some could heal the sick; others could make things grow. Still others could tell the future, or read the past." And they'd found it again. The lost city. A fairy tale turned real; Jenna could hardly believe it, though she'd been there when the first breathless messengers had arrived fresh from the ships with the news.

John wriggled in her arms until he could look up at her. "If you went there now, could they make you better?"

Jenna stiffened in shock. She hadn't realized that John knew she was sick. But of the two boys, John was always more empathetic than his brother Dave, even though he was so much younger. She should have seen it before now--how careful he was around her, how mindful in those precious hours when she had the energy to be out of bed and spending time with them. "We only just found it again," she reminded him. "We haven't even properly explored the land. And until your father sends someone to rule in his name, there won't be magic in the land--if there's even any left after all this time." And that was only if the legends were true in the first place.

When John had snuggled back into her lap, Jenna continued the story. "The people loved the land, and it loved them. But others were jealous. They saw that the Lanteans had magic, and they did not. They created terrible monsters called Wraith to feed on the magic and take it from them." That part of the story never sat well with Jenna. If the neighboring people had no magic, how did they create monsters? "Eventually the Wraith drove our ancestors across the sea, and they came to live with their distant kin on Chian Mountain. But this land has no magic, and it was difficult for them to learn to do without. But learn they did, and grow in numbers, and slowly prosper. But the sons and daughters and grandsons and granddaughters and all those who came after never forgot their shining city."

"And?" John prompted.

This was his favorite part. Until now, it had seemed like such an innocent ending to the tale, as make-believe and far away as magic itself, because there had been no city. "And," Jenna finished quietly, "When you grow up, your brother will rule here, and you will rule in the city of Atlantis." She tightened her arms around her son, wishing that Patrick had never sent the seeker ships, that he'd ignored the old traditions, waved aside whispers and rumors and the academics with their translations and conjectures.

"I'll miss you," John whispered, turning his head and clutching at the sleeves of her nightshirt.

"I'll miss you too, sweetling," Jenna murmured, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.


	2. Chapter 2

Evan's horse was beginning to stumble. It wasn't the failing light; Thorn saw as well in the dark as a cat. They'd been pushing hard the last two days, and still hadn't lost their pursuers. He _had_ lost Aiden, though--the last of the men in Evan's unit, and he cursed the Genii and the strange creatures that had been set to hunt them. He cursed, too, the fact that they'd been too close to the border to use their magic properly; the first two men had died because they'd been trying to summon power that wasn't there instead of drawing their weapons. Five soldiers he'd started with, and all of them gone. If nothing else, it underscored the importance of the messages he'd received from their spy in Genara. He had to make it back to Atlantis and warn John.

Thorn tripped over something on the path and nearly went down to his knees. Evan hissed as the saddle horn rammed into his ribs. He was hardly in better shape than the horse, for all that he'd been the one riding. A Genii spear had caught him a glancing blow, and he'd had no time to tend it, had wrapped it as best he could as they rode and left it at that. He shook his head as the scenery swam in and out of focus. They hadn't been wearing their armor, had no reason to think that their cover as merchants was anything but solid. After meeting with Sora Tyrus, they had crossed back across the border into Lantea with no trouble, only to find a squad of Genii soldiers waiting for them. And...something else. Something that seemed to be able to follow them no matter how fast they rode or how well they hid their trail. Creatures that weren't human. Wraith, if what Sora said were true. One of the things had grabbed Aiden out of the saddle the day before and dragged him into the trees before Evan could even raise his crossbow.

"Easy, boy," Evan murmured, patting the stallion's neck. Evan reached for his magic, but it slipped through his grasp like water. He couldn't concentrate. Even if he was far enough into Lantea to use magic now, the pounding behind his eyes made it all but impossible.

The horse took a step forward and then froze. Something rustled in the leaves along the trail, higher up where the ground sloped toward the mountain range that broadened here to stretch for miles between Lantea and Genara. Quietly Evan unslung his crossbow from where it was lashed to the saddle. Thorn's nostrils quivered. Whatever it was, Evan didn't think it was one of the creatures that was chasing them. _Those_ had struck such terror into the animals that the riders had barely kept them under control; slipping out from behind the trees like ghosts to give chase on foot, they'd kept pace with the galloping horses, grinning with mouths full of sharp teeth.

Now, though, Thorn bunched his muscles like he was ready to fight. His eyes rolled as something leapt behind them, and the horse snapped his head around so quickly that he pulled the reins from Evan's hand. Evan twisted in the saddle, gasping as the movement tore his wound open anew. He leveled the crossbow and realized too late he'd been expecting a human-sized attacker, and the bolt flew harmlessly over the large cat that stood on the path. Thorn kicked back and started running in one movement. Evan lost the crossbow in a desperate bid not to fall out of the saddle. The trees flew by in a blur, and he knew they'd left the trail when branches started slapping him in the face. It was all he could do to cling to Thorn's neck as the horse raced madly through the trees.

Their flight seemed to last an eternity. Evan's side, bleeding freely now, burned like fire. His head throbbed with each hoofbeat. Flecks of foam flew from Thorn's gaping mouth. Neither of them would last much longer. As Evan's vision began to swim, he focused on the thought that perhaps they'd finally outrun the Wraith. After seeing what had happened to his men, he'd much prefer to be a meal for a mountain lion, if he had to choose. When at last Thorn skidded to a halt at the edge of the trees, sides heaving, Evan tumbled from the saddle and onto the grass.

~*~

The first thing Evan noticed when he woke was the smell. It was as if spring had started all over again, like he'd slept through the end of summer, fall, and all of winter. The thought sent a sharp jolt of panic through him. He tried to sit up, but only managed to raise himself a few inches off the mattress before collapsing again. His side was still sore, but prodding with careful fingers under the edge of the bandage encountered only fresh skin.

He was in a small cottage. Fresh thatch showed past the dark roof beams, plants hanging in bunches from every inch. Bright sunlight streamed in through a window above the bed. Evan closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. Sleep pulled him under again without protest.

When he opened his eyes a second time, the angle of light from the window had shifted and was turning the deep gold of late afternoon. He stretched carefully, feeling the familiar tender-tingling of magical healing. Had he slept through another day, or only a few hours? Sleep-groggy, he pushed himself up with his arms and then jerked in surprise when something brushed the top of his head. When his ribs didn't protest the sudden movement, he craned his neck and looked up. A long string of onions hung from the ceiling over the bed. 

Evan examined the rest of the house. Aside from the plants drying from the beams, there was a box with fresh herbs on the windowsill, and by their abundant spread of leaves he guessed it was still summer, though things weren't nearly so green back home. Pots sat on the table in the center of the room in front of a wide stone fireplace, and the far wall was built up entirely with shelves. Pots and jars of every size and color imaginable filled them almost to overflowing.

The sight was reassuring. He must have been rescued by someone with a good deal of healing magic, and maybe defensive magic, too, if the Wraith hadn't followed him here. It wasn't unheard of for someone to manifest more than one ability, though it was rare. John could manipulate air in all kinds of ways, and was learning how to combine his magic with others. Evan's own power had manifested itself through earth and rocks, and though he'd always been a little disappointed that it wasn't something more grand, at least he _had_ magic. Not everyone did.

Curious to discover the identity of his rescuer, Evan tried to stand. His legs felt like sacks of sand and the rest of him at least twice his twenty-six years, but if he leaned an arm against the wall he could keep from falling over. Shuffling slowly, he made his way toward the open door. A path led through a tidy yard and to an open gate in a low stone wall that curved around the sides of the house. A fire was burning in an outdoor hearth and a table nearby held evidence that someone had been cooking. There was no one in view, but Evan heard a voice coming from around back. "Not the fennel! There's an entire field of nice, sweet grass out there you--you big brute!"

Trying not to laugh, Evan leaned on the cottage wall and made his way to the corner. The 'big brute' had to be Thorn, and Evan was relieved to know that his favorite horse had survived. Sure enough, the stallion was standing in the middle of a large garden out back, completely undisturbed by the tall man flapping his hands in his face. The horse seemed to be greatly enjoying the fennel, and as Evan watched, he reached down and took another mouthful of the wispy leaves. Then Evan winced. Thorn had left a messy trail of crushed plants behind him. Evan eyed the distance to the garden, unsure if he could make it that far unaided. His legs decided for him abruptly, and he sat down on the ground with a grunt.

Thorn pricked his ears at the sound and trotted through the rest of the garden toward Evan. He lowered his head to lip at Evan's hair affectionately, and Evan scratched him under the chin. "Hey, big guy, good to see you're okay." The horse seemed recovered from his ordeal, and there was no evidence that he'd been attacked by the mountain lion—not so much as a scratch.

"Please don't go undoing all the work I've done," the man said, coming up to stand next to Thorn. He looked to be a year or two younger than Evan and wore loose brown trousers stained with dirt at the knees and a shirt that might have been white once. His reddish-brown hair was the same color as Thorn's coat. "Your wound still needs to heal. My herbs can only do so much."

Evan smiled up at him from the ground. "Herbs? I thought you must have healing magic," Evan said. "I already feel a lot better." He realized how silly that sounded moments after collapsing and added, "It doesn't hurt much, anyway."

"Salves and teas," the man answered, "given a boost with my magic. As good as true healing, if you give them time to work." He gave Evan a look that suggested he did not approve of his charge being up and about.

Evan sighed. Time was something he didn't have. "I need to return to Atlantis. I have important news."

"Nothing that can't wait a few more days, I'm sure." The man eyed Thorn warily as he reached down and offered a hand to Evan. As he pulled Evan up he said, "I don't suppose you could convince your horse to stay out of my garden?"

"I'm sorry," Evan said. He grabbed Thorn by his chin hairs and tried to look stern. "Thorn," he told the horse, "this very nice man rescued us and healed me. Please don't eat his plants." In answer, Thorn blew a hot puff of sweet-smelling air into Evan's face. But to his surprise, the horse turned in a half-circle and walked carefully around the edge of the garden, then stepped over the low stone wall and into the field beyond as if he'd understood every word. With a toss of his head at Evan, the horse turned his back and started to graze.

"Much better. Come on, now. I expect you'd like something more filling than the tea and broth I've been giving you." The man tugged gently on Evan's arm and led him inside, settling him onto the bench at the table. He disappeared outside again and came back moments later with a pot of something that smelled wonderful. Evan's stomach rumbled as the stew was followed by plates of soft cheese, bread, and fruit; lastly, the man opened a hatch in the floor and pulled out a bottle that immediately started to sweat in the warm air. "There's a cold spring under the house. It's why I built here, though the garden's a little rockier than I'd like."

Evan reached for his his magic, feeling a flood of relief when it came to him. He stretched a tendril toward the ground; the stones under the floor felt solid and welcoming. Just below that was rock that had been worn away by water over the centuries, bubbling to the surface to pool and drain back into the ground. The absence of rock and soil around the spring left a space the right size for a root cellar. Evan let the magic go with a sigh. Weak as he was, it would be folly to try to use too much power just then.

The food certainly helped, and Evan realized he was ravenous. He'd eaten nothing but traveling rations on the journey out, and after their encounter with the Genii soldiers only what he'd been able to wolf down while they rested and watered the horses. He wasn't sure that he'd eaten at all after he'd lost Aiden.

While they ate, they exchanged introductions. Evan's rescuer was David Parrish, and he explained that his magic was with things that grow. "And yes," he added with a sigh, "before you ask, I was named after the elder Prince. My parents weren't terribly creative. There were three other Davids in our village growing up, and I don't know how many Johns." Evan stifled a laugh. John always acted embarrassed when he met men who were named after him, and although he denied it, Evan suspected he was keeping a tally of _Davids_ versus _Johns_ in his head. The brothers weren't rivals, exactly, but neither would Evan call them friends.

"How did you find me?" Evan asked, refilling his bowl and slicing another chunk of bread.

David waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, Bark told me." Evan could only assume he meant that the trees had somehow indicated his passing; they'd certainly torn enough branches in their mad race from the mountain lion. Evan briefly described their encounter with the cat, and their flight through the forest. "A mountain lion?" David looked thoughtful. "No, I didn’t see him."

 _Him?_ Evan wondered, then banished his curiosity for a more important question. "What about the Wrai--anything else?" Surely his trail was cold by now, the monsters returned to Genara. Ancestors willing, John and the others would find a way to fight inhuman creatures that sucked out a man's magic until he was nothing but a dry husk before any more of them crossed the border.

"This area is protected," David replied calmly. "My magic. It sort of...leaks into things. There's a—I guess you'd call it a barrier—worked into the trees and the fields. It's very difficult to find this place if you don't know what you're looking for."

"No wonder it's so green," Evan said wistfully. "I thought it was because I was close to the mountains." He shook his head. Even before he'd left, the fields around Atlantis were withering in the summer heat. It was good to know that the Wraith would have trouble following his trail. If they hadn't found him yet, they probably wouldn't. "But why live out here in the middle of nowhere?"

David tilted his head and smiled. "Murrow is only a few miles down the valley," he said, nodding toward the door. Evan brought to mind the maps of the region and pictured the small town and outlying villages at the foothills of the mountains, recalculating how far he'd traveled since he'd left Genara. He was nearly halfway back already. "What I can't grow, I get in town," David continued, "and people come to me for potions and medicines."

Evan nodded. Not every town was fortunate enough to have someone with any kind of healing magic living with them. He took a more careful look around the house, and saw evidence that David's gifts were well-regarded: the dishes were fine pottery, glazed in bright green and yellow; the coverings on the bed were linen and wool, as soft as any in the towers at the heart of the city. "Murrow," Evan recited, "some grain but mostly sheep. Good cheese and even better wool." He could list the resources of every settlement with a decent population, though that wasn't difficult; there were few enough of those. “You were born in Lantea?” Evan asked, thinking he'd guessed right at David's age.

“Yes,” David responded. “My parents farmed near the city when they first arrived from Chian, and we moved to Murrow during the scramble to claim land and build new settlements.” He grinned. “My parents raise sheep and make cheese. What about you?”

“I was a baby when my parents came here. My father was part of the Regents' guards, or they wouldn't have made the crossing with me being so little and my sister only a couple of years older. My parents still live in Atlantis, though my father's retired now. I keep telling him that if he's as bored as he claims, they should move out into the country. His magic manifested with metals in the Awakening. I'm sure he could find work anywhere.”

And Evan knew that more people needed to move out of the city. The first wave of settlers from Chian Mountain had come across the sea in droves, eager for new land and the promise of magic, ears itching with tales of a city sparkling as bright as legends told. They found the city, but the magic was slow to come. Those who had it found it weak and difficult to control, and many men and women burned themselves out in the race of trying to learn. The flow of immigrants slowed, and the academics theorized that their ancestors had been different somehow, that the thousands of years living and breeding on a new continent and among people with no magic had changed them. Those who remained in the rediscovered land made their homes in the city proper, where the walls were high and kept them safe. The land around Atlantis was rich from being fallow so long, so they stayed, too stubborn to give up the legend so easily.

And then the first children were born. The land awakened in response, and suddenly people who had no magic discovered new abilities. Evan remembered making rocks sparkle for him before he could talk, making the ground soften beneath him when he fell. He wasn't even aware of it; it was just something he did. Word spread back across the ocean: there was magic after all. More people came, but it was a more cautious influx this time. Villages slowly sprang up, and then towns. Fields were plowed, herds grew in number. But it wasn't enough. Even with magic to help clear fields and build houses and shape tools, there were too many people still living in the city. If the worst happened--war with the Genii, for example, an invasion backed by monsters that were no more myth than the city had turned out to be--their fragile foothold in this new land would collapse. How long did they have before the Genii attacked? A year? Two?

"Are you all right?" David set a cup of steaming liquid in front of Evan and looked at him with concern. Evan blinked. He hadn't even noticed David get up from the table, too wrapped up in the concerns that had been plaguing John and the court for so long now. Without thinking, he lifted the cup and took a large swallow.

"Eargh! What is that?" He set the cup down and eyed it distastefully.

"Fugwort tea. I'm sorry, but it will help you heal faster." David frowned and added, "I put honey in it."

"Did you also put a dead mouse in it?" Evan could feel the magic working, though. It wasn't the same as healer's magic—that made his skin run cold and left him weak, even as it mended a broken bone or stitched his skin together. This sent warmth out from his belly and along his limbs, making him feel as though he were soaking up the sun. With a sigh, Evan held his breath and drank the rest. David shoved the plate of grapes toward him, and Evan ate a handful of the fruit, which washed the worst of the taste from his mouth. "You're very good," Evan admitted, "even if your potions are a bit...disagreeable."

"Most of them aren't—honest." David stood and began clearing the empty dishes. "But you said you were in a hurry. When I found you two days ago you were burning with fever and nearly white from losing blood." He gave Evan a wry smile. "Most unconscious patients don't mind the taste. I'd prefer to let you recover naturally now; really, you should rest at least a week—"

"I can't." Evan rose, testing his legs, and found that he could stand without holding on to the table. He picked up his own plate and cup and followed David to the cleaning trough at the side of the house. "I really do need to get back to the city."

"Which is why you're drinking fugwort tea instead of something milder," David said. "You'll still need a day to get some food into you and strength back into your legs." He raised a hand when Evan started to protest. "Don't argue with me or I'll dose you with sleepwell and you'll do it the slow way. I won't have you falling off of that great big horse of yours halfway back to Atlantis."

Evan nodded, chagrined. Their methods might be different, but David sounded just like the royal healer at his most stubborn. When they were done with the dishes they laid the towels out to dry and retired to a pair of high-backed chairs that were positioned to catch the last of the afternoon sun. Evan tried to work out how they'd been made without success. They didn't appear to have joints, nails, or seams. When he remarked on it, David answered, "I made them." At Evan's confused look, he laughed and reached down into a wood box on the ground and pulled a small knotty burl from the top. "Watch." David closed his eyes and concentrated. Evan gasped as the wood began to move under David's hands. it stretched and thinned; four spikes shot out of the bottom and another from the top. Evan guessed that he was making a miniature model of a chair, but the sculpture's features became more delicate and soon took on the shape of a horse. With a grin, David handed him the finished piece that just fit on his outstretched hand. It was a perfect replica of Thorn, head held high and as proud as in real life. So David had strong plant magic, then, if he could work dead wood. Their head gardener in the city could not, claiming she might as well try to shape rock. Likewise, the woman who crafted bows and weapon handles for the army couldn’t work live plants, only wood.

Evan grinned and set the little horse in his lap. Leaning over, he felt out with his own magic, testing its strength and pleased to discover that the tea and food had restored much of it. There was a nice piece of quartz just under his foot. He called it to him and shifted the dirt off of it. With a nod to David, he closed his eyes and focused on the stone. It was almost pure, with small crystals and just a bit of iron; excellent for magic work but stubborn for being the same shape for so long. Evan gave it a gentle nudge and thought about the flowers his sister loved to grow in her garden. He heard David draw in his breath in a mirror of his own earlier wonder. When he was finished, Evan held a sculpture of a rose, perfect even down to its dusky pink color. He handed it to David, who took the rose and held it up to the fading sun, then raised an inquiring eyebrow. Evan blushed to his hairline and stammered, "I was thinking of thorns. That's my horse's name—Thorn." He held up the little horse sculpture.

"Your horse _is_ a bit prickly, isn't he?" David smiled. "It's lovely, thank you."

Clearing his throat, Evan looked out to the pasture where Thorn was rolling happily in the grass rather than continue to stare at the way David’s eyes sparkled a deep, clear blue in the setting sun. "If you ever need anything in Atlantis, take that to the towers. They'll know it's my work." David hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers over the smooth petals. Anything else that might have made the moment more awkward was interrupted by a series of strange high-pitched yips, followed by a dark shape that swooped over their heads and landed on the main roof beam, the end of which extended beyond the thatch by a good two feet. "What—?" Evan stood, reaching for his magic and feeling into the ground for small stones to hurl.

"That's just Bark," David said, getting to his feet. He looked up at the hawk, who was settling onto the wood, sharp talons adding to the gouges along its length. "I take it all's well?" The hawk gave David a penetrating look, blinked, and then started grooming its feathers. David settled back into the chair. "Bark is better than a watchdog," David explained. "If there's anything unusual out there, she gets very agitated and comes to fetch me."

"Bark?" Evan asked, remembering David's earlier words. "She's the one who found me?"

"Yes," David answered. "I rescued her after she broke a wing, silly thing. Flew right into a tree."

Evan shook his head in amusement. "Do you always take in strays?"

"Only when I think they'll be good company," David answered with a smile.

~*~

In the morning, after a breakfast of porridge sweetened with strawberries and honey, Evan dug through his saddle bags for a change of clothes. His wound was healed well enough to allow for a proper wash, and after days of hard travel and fever sweat, Evan was itchy. Carrying drying cloths and scented soap, David led him past the garden and through a small gate in the back of the stone wall. "There's a pool where another spring comes to the surface," David explained. "It's good for bathing, but a little cold."

Evan shivered. He didn't like cold. Cold made him sleepy, made his skin feel like it was going to crack like a rock filled with ice. He much preferred stones that soaked up warmth in the sun or from deep under the ground. He'd seen a volcano once, when he had toured the northern part of the country with John and Ronon. It had made his magic hum for days.

When they approached the little pool, Evan knelt and dipped a finger into the still water. It wasn't just cold, it was the cold of water that would numb a man's bones in minutes. "You _bathe_ here?" he asked, incredulous.

"Of course," David replied, stripping off his shirt. Evan wondered if his plant magic made him indifferent to the icy temperature--but then, plants didn't like the cold either, did they? Evan closed his eyes and very, very carefully sent a tendril of magic into the ground below. When he sought heat from the ground itself, it tended to pull on his magic and a thread could easily become a rope. What he wanted was there, and in the right place.

Evan sat back on his heels. David had folded his shirt and stood watching him, aware that he was doing something with his magic, but not what. "Would you like the water to be a little warmer?" Evan asked.

"You can do that?" David folded his long legs under him and sat next to the towels. "Yes, please, as long as the water under the house stays cold."

“Mhmm, only here," Evan replied, sinking into the ground again. There were more springs scattered between here and the mountains, he knew, so it oughtn’t take much. All he needed was for the water underground to circulate closer to the heat buried deep below before it came to the surface. He didn't want to bring the molten rock up--geysers of steam would not be pleasant--and so the water had to go down. With a nudge here and a bit of shifting of rock there, Evan rearranged the water's path so that it brushed the layer of rocks that were hot with fire from the magma underneath. Because it would take a bit of time for the effect to be noticeable, he twitched just a bit of that heat through the bedrock and brought it to the flow heading to the pool. Within moments he felt the chill near his fingers change to warmth. He double checked that nothing would shift in a week or a month or a year and opened his eyes. "Done. This spring will always be warm now."

David grinned. "That's handy." He stood and removed his boots and socks, then dipped his foot in the water with a happy sigh. "You could make a living off of this."

Evan shucked his own shirt and boots, answering, "Not really. The conditions have to be just right. This one had the potential. Most don't." He turned away politely to fold his shirt as David finished undressing and slipped into the water.

"You have a lot of scars," David commented quietly.

Evan paused, then decided modesty was hardly necessary anymore. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the pool, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of his muscles relaxing in the warmth before answering. David already knew he came from Atlantis; there was no reason he shouldn't know the truth. "I'm the Field Commander of the Royal Army," he said slowly. "It's a position that tends to attract scars, and I'm not always lucky enough to have a healer on hand."

David's brows furrowed, and he said, "You were still an infant when the city fought off Cowen's forces. And there hasn't been a war since."

"No." Evan reached for the soap and a small cloth. "But I patrol the borders, and we fight skirmishes sometimes when the Genii or the Menarans want to test our mettle." The Genii had invaded once before, eight months after the first settlers had arrived, still muddling through failed attempts to find magic. It was only because so many of those settlers had been soldiers and their families—including Evan's—and because the neighboring country of Sateda had thrown in their lot with the Lanteans that Cowen’s forces had been defeated. The Genii feared a land infused with magic; they feared people wielding it even more. And now they were going to try again, only this time with the aid of the Wraith.

“And you wonder why I want to live in the middle of nowhere?” David smiled. “Give me a garden over a sword any day.”

Evan didn't argue. One's nature was one's nature. Some day, maybe, he'd be ready to retire and have a small house with a garden, but for now he saw it as his duty to keep Lantea safe for those who felt as David did. He banished thoughts of Genii and war and the Wraith and resolved to enjoy the rest of the day instead of worry.

~*~

Evan had to admit that the extra day's rest had him feeling almost as good as new the next morning. He hadn't been allowed to do anything more taxing than to check Thorn's tack and saddlebags and give the horse a good brushing. And being around David was relaxing in a different way; he didn’t expect anything of Evan, seemingly content just for a bit of company. Evan had decided to warn David about the Genii and the Wraith, and while John wouldn't want either to be public knowledge just yet, Evan felt he owed his rescuer the truth. David waved aside his concern. His magic had protected him so far and there was no reason to think it wouldn't continue to do so.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Evan gathered his few belongings and saddled Thorn. “No tricks,” he told the horse, elbowing him in the side to keep him from stretching his belly to avoid tight straps.

David watched, clearly amused, as Evan argued, pleaded, and threatened until every piece was in place. “I hope he's worth it.”

“Mostly,” Evan replied as Thorn tried to reach the end of one of the straps with his teeth. “You've had days of fresh grass and cold stream water, lazy bones,” he said, swatting at Thorn's nose. “If you can't get me to the city in four days after such a nice rest, maybe it's time to trade you in.” He'd always talked to Thorn as though the horse could understand him, and he certainly seemed to pick up on tone and body language. But at that, Thorn rolled his eyes and bared his teeth, pawing at the ground as if to say, _I dare you to try!_

Startled at the behavior, Evan stepped back and turned to grab the satchels of food David had packed for him. David bent to pick up another and said, “I didn't think it would affect him this quickly, or I might have warned you.”

“What would affect who?” Evan asked, straightening.

“I've noticed it with some of the other animals.” David frowned and looked toward the roof beam where Bark the hawk perched, watching them sleepily. “Bark eats rodents and squirrels that eat things out of my garden, and she's...” he shrugged. “She seems to understand me, sometimes. Not my speech, not directly, but—like knowing to fetch me when a man and horse have collapsed in a nearby meadow, for example.”

“You mean—” Evan turned toward Thorn, who was making good progress at unbuckling one of the straps of his saddle. He sighed. Just what he needed—an extremely stubborn, _intelligent_ horse. But then, maybe it wouldn't be all that bad. Thorn pulled the strap free with a shake of his head and reached for another. “I suppose you'll tell me next that the mountain lion chased me here on purpose?”

“His name is Landslide,” David said, “because—”

“I can guess.” Evan rubbed his face. Then he started to laugh. “John is never going to believe me.” But why not? They barely had a handle on what their own magic could do, let alone anyone else's. He shook his head and regarded David solemnly. “If you ever want a position in the city, it's yours.” Katie Brown, who worked in the city gardens, would be fascinated to meet someone with powers similar to her own. Her magic didn't leak all over the place, though. They'd have to work on that, or the army would never be able to saddle their horses again. “Thorn,” Evan called warningly. Thorn's ears swiveled in Evan's direction. The horse slowly released his grip on the second strap, and Evan swore he looked chagrined. Evan stifled another laugh.

“I'll see to it that this area is included with the regular patrols.” Evan turned back to David and took the pack from him, suddenly loathe to leave this peaceful place. It was certain he'd return, with the Genii border so close and Wraith wandering the mountains, though the thought left an uncomfortable knot in his belly.

“The hot spring will be here and waiting,” David said. “And I'll make sure that Landslide knows to avoid men on horseback.” He grinned. “Unless they're in trouble.”

Evan gripped David's hand for a moment in quiet thanks, then re-buckled Thorn's saddle and fastened the packs, and then it was time to leave. “Ancestors keep you,” he said in the traditional farewell that meant the parting was only temporary. He wasn't even sure why he said it; the whole saying was: “Ancestors keep you safe while I'm away from you.”

David's face registered a moment's surprise, then he raised his hand in the morning sunlight and responded, “Ancestors watch you,” the whole of which was: “Ancestors watch you on your journey until you return home to me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Prince John paced his rooms in the tallest tower that stood in the center of the city. He'd moved into the suite when he'd turned sixteen, not because he thought his station deserved such lofty accommodations, but because he was a worrier, and the windows afforded the best view of the city and surrounding plains. That, and because the regents his father had appointed when he was a child and who still acted as advisors refused to climb “such a ridiculous amount of stairs” to seek him there. That John's magical affinity with Atlantis allowed him to use the transporters scattered throughout the city and avoid the stairs if he wished while they could not was just another sore point between them, one that made Stephen and Elizabeth's faces turn sour and John grin inwardly in triumph.

Pausing at the western window, John chewed on his lower lip. Evan was overdue. He and his men should have been back days ago with news that all was quiet in Genara, and the fact that he wasn't was unsettling. They'd long understood that the Genii were preparing for war, but the latest reports arriving by pigeon as part of Radek's spy network said that they were years away from being ready yet. Why it was taking them years—it had been more than two decades since their first attempt at the city—was worrying in and of itself. How long did it take to raise an army? Build war machines? What were they waiting for?

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Rodney's voice as he entered the main sitting room and made his way toward John in the study. “Elizabeth would like me to remind you that the Athosian ambassador should not be left alone for hours at a time.” He stopped at the threshold, looking uncertain, mouth an unhappy line.

“Councilwoman Teyla,” John emphasized her name and proper title, “is probably a lot happier down on the training grounds with Ronon than she would be making awkward conversation with me.” He smiled and flicked his fingers, and Rodney stepped forward, leaning against him.

“You're not really going to marry her, are you?” Rodney sounded miserable. Elizabeth and Stephen had made it clear that it was well past the time that John found a wife, and assured him that his father felt the same. Since John no longer spoke to his father, he had to take their word for it. But since his father hadn’t ever visited Lantea--not once in all these years--the threat of King Patrick’s wrath was an idle one.

“She's not that bad, Rodney,” John said, putting his arms around him. Rodney snorted. Well, it was true. The parade of eligible women had started when John had turned twenty, and had ranged from the flighty, power-hungry daughter of a small mountainous barony to the niece of the Genii leader himself. As if he'd ally with the Genii! Elizabeth and Stephen had tried to convince him that it would end the possibility of war; John knew it would simply give them a legitimate claim to the city and its magic, and it would come to war regardless. At least the Athosians were good people, had been more than fair to them in the years they'd lived here. He might prefer the Satedans by a hair—they'd actually sent troops to help fight off Cowen's forces in that first year—but the Satedan ruling assembly found the idea of marrying off any of their kin to strengthen an already firm alliance ridiculous. Ronon, their military liaison to Atlantis, joked that it was too bad Lantean law wouldn't let John marry another man--another custom the Satedans found ridiculous.

“Have you told her about us?” Rodney stepped back and gave John one of his stubborn looks, one that said he was going to argue the point until he had his way.

John scrubbed a hand through his hair. “She's only been here a few days, Rodney. What am I supposed to tell her? 'Oh, by the way, our marriage would be a farce, I hope that's okay with you'?”

“Well, why not?” Rodney crossed his arms. “If it were me, I'd want to know from the start and not be strung along like some, some—” He waved his hands, and settled on, “hopeless maiden in a fairy tale.”

“She's hardly that,” John replied, thinking of the fiery woman who was anything but. He leaned against the windowsill and sighed. “We've talked about this, Rodney. What happens if I don't produce an heir?”

“Oh, please.” Turning to face the clutter of papers and books on the table, Rodney said, “You were seven years old. Your mother had just died, your father was a mess, you'd been sent to a new and confusing place. You can't be sure—”

“I know what happened.” John remembered it clearly, for all that he'd been a child at the time. Part of what Rodney said was true: he'd been completely lost after his mother had finally succumbed to the sickness that had been eating at her for years. John was supposed to grow up in Chian, learn to be a proper king with his brother David, but after his mother's death, his father hadn't been able to bear to look at the son who reminded him so much of her. So John had been sent to Atlantis to be raised by Elizabeth and Stephen, who had been regents in the new land for only two years.

The flow of settlers had stopped by then, because it had become apparent that the land was dead; the magic had gone sour. It was enough of a risk just to make the journey across storm-tossed seas--too much of a risk for most, with the reward only a parcel of farmland that had to be worked by hand, using tools brought from Chian and carried over land where roads had disappeared generations past. Impossible, without the promised magic. Those who remained lived in the city proper, where there was running water and lights and safety, barely exploring a day's walk beyond it for fear the Genii would strike again.

John had not been welcomed, at least not by Elizabeth and Stephen, who had spent their first year fighting off an invasion only to have to cede power to a young boy the moment it was over. The people had loved him, though, because it meant that they had a prince of their own. But other than the few tutors who had been begrudgingly assigned to him, John had been left on his own. And so he'd explored. The city had welcomed him, and he hadn't questioned it, for he hadn't known it was different for anyone else. Transporters had whisked him from one corner of the city to another; doors had opened, strange devices had blinked with lights. He'd found a chair one day, barely a month after his arrival. He'd thought it was a throne, for it certainly looked like one. It had called to him, and so he'd climbed up in it and sat, feet hanging off the end as it lit up with magic.

When he'd finally returned to his rooms, one of his tutors had been waiting for him, angry at John's tardiness. John hadn't been able to explain where he'd been. He'd _talked_ to the city for hours, or something like talking; slowly at first, and then more quickly as the city had seemed to awaken from a deep sleep, they'd exchanged images and thoughts. John had shared his sadness at the loss of his mother, and the city its sadness at the loss of its children, and in that shared bond they'd understood each other.

It wasn't until years later that John connected his hours in the chair with the Awakening of magic in the population, even though his own had manifested shortly thereafter. Not the pitiful attempts that guttered like a flame on wet wood, but true magic. The city had recognized the blood of a ruler. By the time he'd finally understood, he also knew enough to keep that knowledge to himself. More or less. Rodney knew all of his secrets.

“If you're right,” Rodney answered, “And I say 'if,' you also said that it's nearly out of power anyway. The issue of an heir might be a moot one.”

“Maybe.” They’d had this argument before, starting on the day a few months past when John had sat in the chair and felt it falter. He’d tried to track the magic to its source, but all he’d gotten was an image of a nearly empty reservoir. John turned to look out the window again. At least they knew why their long-ago ancestors had given up the fight and left. 

He was about to add that his marriage might as well be an issue of creating stronger alliances in the face of war, but just then a single horse appeared over a hill to the west. Evan. He'd returned, alone. John signaled to Rodney, and they made their way down to the tower courtyard to meet him.

~*~

“They were Wraith, I'm sure of it.” Evan looked tired. He'd obviously had a hard ride from Genara to bring his news. A jagged tear in the front of his coat was recently mended, though he'd declined a visit to the healers before meeting with John and Rodney in a private chamber in the central spires. His report was not what John would have liked to hear, but then, he'd hardly expected better.

Rodney poured them all more wine and joined John in pacing the floor. “Did Sora know how many Wraith Cowen has at his disposal?”

Shaking his head, Evan said, “Not Cowen, not anymore. Someone named Kolya has taken over. It was his plan to wake the Wraith.”

“Wake?” John stopped abruptly and turned to face Evan. “What does that mean?”

Evan shrugged. “There's some kind of underground facility way up in the north near the borders with Lantea and Athos, but Sora has never been inside. Apparently the Wraith have been hibernating, or something like it, this whole time.”

“For thousands of years?” John had no idea how to begin calculating numbers. He had no idea what powers the Wraith had, if they had magic, if they could be killed; all he knew was that a pack of them had taken out a squad of good men and that Evan had barely escaped with his life. If an entire army marched on Lantea... “Rodney, could you have Peter and Radek look through the archives? There must be something in the libraries about the Wraith that we’ve missed.” John shuddered. The monsters were real. They'd run across so few references to their ancestors' ancient enemies, John had almost come to believe they were more myth than truth.

John downed the remainder of his wine and set the glass on a table. “Day after tomorrow, we'll meet and decide what to do about the Genii and their Wraith. It's not much time for research, I know, but tell Peter and Radek to do what they can.” Evan and Rodney's expressions matched the grim look on his own face, he was sure. “We need to be ready to fight a war come spring.”

~*~

The chair beckoned to John as it always did. He'd returned to it over the years, more often as he grew older and understood that it was not just a channel to the city, but to the heart of magic itself. This time, though, he needed the Atlantis he'd talked to as a boy. Ignoring the blue glow and the tingle in his arms, John sought the part of the city that had always seemed alive. Sometimes it was hard to find, but today it must have felt his need, for it was there, hovering at the edges of his mind almost as soon as he reached for it. Recalling Evan's description of the Wraith, he tried to form a picture. There was the barest pause, and the vague shape in his head was replaced by a snarling visage, all teeth and pale skin, long white hair and jagged claws. Gasping, John almost lost his connection before realizing that the city was showing him her memory of a Wraith. Settling back, John studied the creature.

Evan had paled when he'd described how his men had been set upon by the creatures, and John was certain he'd glossed over the true horror of it. _Show me,_ John demanded, and Atlantis did. The Wraith in John's mind-picture grasped a man around the throat, shoved him against a wall, and—sucked the very essence out of him. It was the only way John could describe it. The man withered, shrank, until he was nothing more than a dry husk of bones. “They suck the magic out of people,” John whispered to himself, horrified that that part of the story was as true as the rest. Then he sat bolt upright, suddenly fearful that he'd doomed his people to the same fate by awakening the land's magic only to have it run out when its power source died. That he, Rodney, Evan, everyone, would fade to dust like that man. “No,” he argued, thinking hard, forcing his heartbeat to settle. If that were the case, their ancestors would never have been able to live in magic-less Chian. The Wraith took _life_ , not magic.

The chair pulled at him again. He cleared his head, fearful of what else the city wanted to show him. At first he saw nothing unusual, just the broad plains beyond the city—the same view he'd seen time and again growing up until he felt he knew the whole land as well as his own rooms. Then the grass started to brown; leaves on the trees fell, and wind picked up dust and blew it in billowing clouds. “I know,” he murmured, “the drought's getting bad. I've seen this.” But he hadn't. The view followed the dust storm to the edges of a village, where people dressed in strange clothing shaded their eyes and huddled against tall stone walls. Then John understood, and the hairs on his arms raised with goosebumps. The city wasn't showing him the present, but the past.

John spent the evening in the library with Rodney, Peter and Radek, trying to make sense of the volumes of books that had been sealed and preserved by the previous inhabitants. It had taken John years to undo the knots of magical air that had kept the room from decay, and at age fourteen he'd considered it his greatest accomplishment. He didn't think he could rebuild it even now; he'd never managed to master such delicate threads as those.

Periodically, one of them would read aloud a passage of text that seemed relevant, and they would all argue over the translation, for there didn't seem to be a word for Wraith in the old language. “They must have called them _something,_ ” Radek muttered with a frustrated sigh. The lack of information was vexing, and after hours of study they knew little more than when they'd started.

The other men finally shoved John bodily from the room long past midnight over his protests that he could read the ancient language as well as any of them. “You,” Rodney countered, “are taking _Councilwoman Teyla_ for a ride across the countryside in the morning, in case you've forgotten.”

“I could get Evan to--” John tried to argue, but Rodney glared and blocked the doorway.

“No, you can't. John, if you think you need to marry her, it's—” He looked away, then met John's gaze, blue eyes clear and determined. “I understand, I really do. I...I dislike her less than any of the other women that have been foisted on you, and I think she'd accept us still being friends. I mean I wouldn't have to go live in Barrick or Holden or some stupid village that doesn't even have plumbing or anything, and—”

John stopped the flow of words in the only way that worked with Rodney. He stepped in and kissed him, pressing past the first moment of Rodney's resistance until he leaned forward in kind. “That's not how I want it to be between us,” John said, resting his forehead against Rodney's.

“Your father—” Rodney protested.

“Isn't here.” John stepped back, glancing over Rodney's shoulder into the library to where Radek and Peter had gone back to poring over books, giving them their privacy. He envied his brother sometimes, for how simple life must be for him, and pitied him, too, for living with the looming shadow of their father at his back.

“But Elizabeth and Stephen are here,” Rodney said, grabbing John's shoulders and turning him away from the doorway. “So you'd better be on time tomorrow or they'll throw a fit.”

Knowing Rodney was right but hating to admit it, John waved goodnight with the book he'd taken from the library. Rodney rolled his eyes and ducked back into the room.

~*~

John was almost late anyway; he'd fallen asleep at his desk, and by the time the chimes rang for breakfast he had to choose between bathing or getting something to eat. He tried to do a little of both, splashing water hurriedly over his head while hopping into a semi-clean pair of trousers and grabbing a few cold rolls on the way to the stables. Maybe he should hire servants. A servant might have awakened him, and John could have slept in his own bed instead of a hard-backed chair. A servant would have drawn a bath and had a tray brought up to his rooms instead of John looking like he'd picked up the nearest set of clothing from the floor. Which he had.

But he remembered that his mother hadn't liked having servants. She'd dressed him, bathed him, even prepared meals for him when she was well enough. And anyway, Elizabeth and Stephen had more than their share of servants, and made a point of engaging their services when John was with them, even when it wasn't necessary. How hard was it to pour one's own wine?

John shoved the last bite of bread into his mouth and hurried down the stairs and into the courtyard. He grimaced as he caught sight of Elizabeth's straight-backed profile. Her dark hair was piled neatly on her head, held in place with several pins that glinted in the sunlight. The dress she wore would have suited a formal affair; it was obvious _she_ hadn't slept late. It made John feel even scruffier, especially when he realized he'd forgotten to shave. He'd hoped she'd see no need to see them off this morning, but of course one or the other of his advisors was always present when he met with Teyla, as if he might run and hide were it not for their recriminating gazes.

Standing in the shadow of the doorway to the stables, Teyla hardly looked like one of her people's highest officials next to Elizabeth's finery. She was dressed plainly, in dark skirts loose and split for riding. Her bearing was certainly stately enough, though John suspected her stiff posture was due to the presence of his prim advisor. No, John thought as he drew closer, put her in a crowd, even dressed like that, and anyone would know Teyla for what she was. It wasn't just the way she held herself, or even her beautiful features; her gaze commanded attention. She was serene, sure of herself, as if it would be pure folly to question her presence anywhere.

“John,” Elizabeth said, turning as he crossed the last distance, “I was beginning to think you'd forgotten.”

Cutting an apologetic grin at Teyla, John said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm glad Elizabeth was here to keep you company.” He nodded to Elizabeth and added, “Hugh should have our horses ready for us.” Teyla returned his smile and gave a much more gracious nod to Elizabeth than his own had been. They entered the stables, and as John turned the corner, he glanced back to see Elizabeth watching them with a calculating look.

“There you are!” Hugh stepped out from the nearest pen, curry comb in hand. He'd been a fixture in the stables as long as John could remember; he used to think that the man used the same brush on his mustache as the horses. “I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up.” Was everyone going to chide him for his tardiness today?

“I'm surprised Pegasus hasn't kicked down his stall door,” John replied, hearing a welcoming nicker from his horse. “I haven't had time to take him for a proper ride lately.”

“Ran him a bit yesterday,” Hugh replied, “so that he wouldn't take it to mind to throw you from the saddle in front of the lady.”

John laughed and clapped Hugh on the shoulder. “I appreciate it. I'd like to keep my dignity intact if at all possible.”

Teyla had walked to her own horse's stall and was petting the mare's nose affectionately. “You've taken good care of her.”

“She's a beaut,” Hugh said, and John could tell he really meant it. He had a good eye for horses, and though he'd never claimed to be one of the adults to develop magic after John had arrived in the city, everyone swore he could tame the wildest stallion just by looking at it. They all turned at a loud clatter at the back of the stable, and Hugh cursed before stalking off toward the noise. “Freyr’s mercy, I don't know what's gotten into Thorn.”

John shrugged in reply to Teyla's questioning look and opened Pegasus' stall door. Evan had mentioned something about Thorn, come to think of it, but John had yet to hear the full story. He dismissed the thought for later and ran his knuckles over Pegasus' nose. His horse was tall and midnight black, with a deep chest and fiery eyes. John murmured a greeting and tugged at the reins, leading Pegasus toward the courtyard. He saw that someone had packed the horse's saddlebags, and he lifted a flap to see blankets and baskets of food—Elizabeth's not-so-subtle encouragement, no doubt, for the ride to be an all-day affair.

Well, at least he would be out riding and not under the eyes of his advisors. With that in mind, John mounted Pegasus and led them through the city walls and south, away from the withering fields and toward the forest that offered cool shade and solitude. Teyla remained quiet, and John was at a loss for a subject matter he could introduce. He couldn't exactly talk to her about the Genii, the Wraith, or that war was imminent. Then he wondered if maybe he should—it might give her a reason to back out of the situation gracefully. In fact, if war truly were imminent, it would be all but impossible to arrange a wedding, even if John were inclined to marry. Then he scowled at himself for thinking of it in such terms. He should be honest for honesty's sake, and tell her that he’d decided he had no wish to marry, alliance or no.

And so, when they entered the shade of the first trees, John nudged Pegasus closer to Teyla's mare. “I know I haven't been very attentive to you while you've been here,” he began. Cutting a quick glance under his lashes, he saw that Teyla regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “I apologize for that. Things have been a little...hectic.”

“With the Genii.” Teyla smiled at John's look of surprise, then continued, “It is common knowledge that the Genii will strike again. They have feared you since your people's return to Lantea. The Satedans offered alliance so quickly, and you are poised to align with the Athosians, as well. You might manage a treaty with the Taranians next, or even the Manarans, for though it was long ago, the Power that Lantea once wielded is legendary.”

John let out a huff of frustration. “Then why didn't the Genii offer a hand in friendship, as well? Why attack us?”

“You have been gone for thousands of years. If you were content all that time, why seek to return now but that you hungered for power?” Teyla flipped her reins as they crested a hill topped by a meadow and her horse broke into a canter.

“Is that what the Athosians think?” John called after her as Pegasus sped up to match them.

Teyla glanced back as her mare began a full-out gallop, refusing to let Pegasus catch her. “We have not decided yet!” John laughed and let Pegasus have his head, knowing that trying to keep him at a slower pace was futile. The two raced across the field, clearing a stream side by side in perfectly matched jumps. Certain that his horse would win the “race,” John let out a breath of surprise when Teyla's smaller mare put on a burst of speed as the ground flattened, outdistancing them easily. By the time they reached the trees at the far end of the clearing, John had to concede he'd never have much chance against them in a sprint.

As they slowed the horses to a walk, John said, “I suppose she has endurance, too.”

“Of course.” Teyla patted the mare's neck affectionately. “Crest comes from a long, proud lineage.”

“Would your people trade? Most of our horses are more fit for a plow than for battle. We could use some good Athosian stock.” As soon as he said it, John realized how insulting that probably sounded in light of the current situation. As if Teyla herself were a brood mare, sought after to ensure hearty offspring. But if she took that interpretation of his words, she didn't show it. “Are you hungry?” he asked quickly. “We should stop here, if so. It has the best grazing.” John winced and hastily added, “And this is the best shady spot for miles.” 

Teyla merely nodded and slid from the saddle, briskly running her hands over Crest's withers to make sure she had cooled down enough, sending her off to graze with a final pat. John did the same with Pegasus as he unhooked the basket and pulled a blanket from the saddlebag. He spread the blanket and invited Teyla to sit, unpacking the food with the faint hope that his mouth wouldn't get him into trouble if it were full.

He couldn't help but remember the many times he'd ridden here with Rodney and picnicked under the same spreading oak. It had a hollow on the far side favored by squirrels, and the current residents could be tempted to the edge of the blanket with berries and nut bread. Farther downstream where the soil was wetter grew a stand of cottonwood trees that dropped its fluff so thickly for a week in the summer that the clearing resembled an isolated blizzard. One of the trees had tipped against a neighbor when the latest generation of foxes had expanded its den in the bank a bit too far under the roots. Despite his promise to keep quiet, John found himself describing all this as they sipped tea and sampled pastries, breads, and cheeses.

When John's rambling drew to a close, Teyla looked up and said, “You truly love this land, don't you?”

“Of course,” John answered. “It's been home to me since I was little. I hardly remember Chian.”

Teyla nodded thoughtfully. “You are...not what I expected.” She smiled then, and John had the feeling that she’d come to a decision about something important. “Since we are to be allies, tell me--why have the rest of your ships not come? Surely your population has grown enough by now to fill this country to bursting.” She gestured to indicate the expanse of open land around them.

“The rest of--” John laughed. “No—it’s not like that at all.” He sought a way to explain the mix of fear and fascination with which Lantea was regarded in Chian. Atlantis was their ancestral home, true—and yet, they had been away for so many generations that their people were as much of the mountains now as of Lantea. John's own line was said to have sprung from the first union between the rulers of the two lands, and _that_ was so long ago that their names were lost to antiquity before their descendents ever tried to go back; still another five generations passed before Lantea was found again. “We didn't know what to expect when we got here,” John told her. “An entirely different continent, more than a month away by ship...And then the magic was uncertain, and the Genii attacked...” He scowled and tossed a corner of his pastry toward the squirrel that was sneaking toward their picnic. “The rush has come and gone, Teyla. It will be generations before we even fill up the space we already have.” 

“And your father. He rules from across the sea.” Teyla's words sounded almost like a question, though John thought that might be because the idea seemed so strange to her. He shifted uncomfortably, and she added, “Surely he wishes this land to prosper?”

“What he wishes is anyone’s guess.” Teyla frowned at that, and John wondered if she was trying to gauge his influence here. Honesty, John reminded himself, and continued, “My father was hoping for miracles, chasing a legend. Lantea was supposed to be full of wonders he could claim and show to the world.” John snorted. “His part of the world, anyway.” What a disappointment to his father Lantea had turned out to be. And because John loved it in a way that his father would never understand, John included himself in the things about Lantea that were disappointing to Patrick. “Lantea doesn’t hold much of his interest.”

“I see.” Teyla studied him, as if working out a puzzle. “Perhaps the stories are true, then,” she murmured, “and no more Wraith will awaken.”

“What?” John stiffened in surprise. “You know about the Wraith?”

Teyla nodded. “They have plagued us off and on over the centuries. Every generation we lose a town to them, or more, and they are gone again before we have a chance to retaliate.” With a sour twist of her mouth, she added, “The attacks have gotten worse lately.”

John's thoughts were racing so quickly he could hardly think of what to ask first. “Where do they come from?” He'd risen to his knees, the last bite of pastry crumbled unnoticed in his fist.

“No one knows,” Teyla answered. “Most believe that the survivors of the war live in warrens in the mountains that lie on the borders between Athos, Genara, and Lantea.” Her brow furrowed and her eyes turned inward. “The Great War, it is said, involved all of us, humans against Wraith. They far outnumbered us, and it was only...” she took a breath, looking uncertain, and finished, “Only the magic of your ancestors that kept them at bay.”

“They abandoned you,” John breathed, sinking back on his heels. A great alliance, backed by the power of Atlantis. And then the magic had run out, and the Lanteans had taken flight across the sea. How many had died after the Lanteans gave up the fight? How many more, because there were fewer people to feed on? He felt a shock of guilt, for all that it had happened so long ago.

Teyla shook her head. “The Wraith had reduced the numbers of humans to mere handfuls during the war. When the Lanteans left, the Wraith were forced to hide, to sleep like some great beast waiting for the end of winter.”

“Waiting for us?” John looked at her sharply, wondering if he was reading the implication correctly. “You think we awakened them again just by returning to Lantea.” 

“Did you never wonder why no one claimed this land in your absence? Even if it is so, we do not blame you--” 

“No.” He grabbed her hand, hoping she would believe him. “We’ve been here for years, Teyla. If our presence affected the Wraith, it would have happened long since. It’s the Genii, they’ve found some kind of--of storage facility. I don’t know how, but they’re the ones who awakened the Wraith, not us.”

“Is this true?” Teyla asked, sounding furious. “Then the Genii are worse fools than I imagined. We could have been rid of the Wraith entirely! Your magic might have been enough to destroy them while they were weak.”

“We were told the news by a Genii who fears what her people are doing. But—” How could he tell her what the city had shown him—that the power that lent them magic was fading again, just like it had before? Then another thought occurred to him as the pieces fell together. “Is that why you want to marry me?” he blurted.

Teyla studied him a full minute before giving her answer. “The Athosians had a choice to make. We could have joined with the Genii to drive you from your land again and hope that the Wraith would continue to cull only _some_ of us. Or to ally with you in the hope of seeing them vanquished once and for all.” She smiled, and shrugged. “Unlike the Genii, we remember that the Lanteans were once our strongest allies.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad that you didn’t aid the Genii,” John said wryly. In the position of the Athosians, he wasn’t sure which he would have thought was the better option. “But marriage?”

“Our Council agreed that we should attempt to match your customs. I was the only eligible member, and so I agreed to come here, because it seemed best for my people.” She met his eyes squarely. “However, I would not enter a marriage unwillingly.” Her teasing smile made John swallow and look away guiltily. He’d considered this marriage for the sake of his people. If things had been different, he might have even considered it favorably. Teyla wasn’t like what he had expected, either. 

“If we married, you'd have to stay here most of the time,” he said. “You'd miss Athos.”

“I would,” she agreed. “Atlantis is beautiful in its way, but Chara is a wondrous capital, full of open spaces and parkland. And within a day's ride, the foundry city of Dema on the Tuttle River, and the Jewel Plains where our horses are bred...” she sighed, then shook her head. “A few days, and I am homesick already.”

John nodded, then took a deep breath. “We don’t have to marry to be allies, Teyla. We’ll fight the Wraith together as friends, as our ancestors did.” Was that just a hint of relief in her eyes? John couldn’t be sure. And though his advisors might want his hide for speaking plainly like this, with no officials to write out lengthy documents or negotiate details, they would have to agree with the results. He hoped the Athosian Council would feel the same way. “What are your customs?” he asked, curious. “I mean, if we were to make an alliance the Athosian way?”

Teyla laughed, low and melodious. “We would drink tea,” she told him, lifting her cup. “And we would speak openly, so that we each knew what was in the other’s heart.”

John laughed with her and took a sip of his own tea. “I like your customs.” 

“One other thing.” She leaned forward, and for a moment John thought she was going to kiss him. Instead she touched her forehead to his and closed her eyes. It was an intensely intimate gesture, direct and uncomplicated. John closed his eyes as well, and after a moment’s pause, Teyla settled back on the blankets. 

“While we’re being completely open...” John ran a hand through his hair. How could he tell her? “Our magic...The things we've seen in the city, the records and remains of workings...We couldn't duplicate the feats of our ancestors now no matter how hard we tried.”

Teyla accepted the news solemnly. “Well. It seems we are on equal footing, and are done with secrets. What, then, are we to do about the Wraith?”

Whistling for the horses, John stood and offered a hand to Teyla. She took it and rose gracefully, and John began packing the baskets. He'd come to several conclusions. The Genii must believe that the Wraith would have awakened regardless, and think that joining with them now could save their people. The initial attack on the city all those years ago may have been a test of the Lantean's strength, even of their magic. Well—they hadn't had magic to fight with then, but they did now, even weakened as it was. Whether it would be enough to defeat the Wraith this time, they'd have to find out the hard way. He met Teyla's gaze and tried to look confident. “We do the only thing we can—we fight.”


	4. Chapter 4

Evan shifted at the back of the meeting room where he stood beside Ronon. He'd been restless with energy since his return from Genara, but was banned from weapons practice and even riding Thorn until their healer Carson deemed him completely fit. Carson hadn't even needed to do anything more than give him a cursory check; the work David had done on his wound had been enough. But Carson was nothing if not cautious and bit proprietary, and he'd ordered Evan to rest.

“Isn't everyone here?” Ronon whispered to him with a nod toward the huge conference table. “Why are we waiting?”

Evan could only shrug in answer. On their left, John, Rodney, and Radek talked quietly at their seats around the table. John had only told Evan that they needed to discuss his report, and he’d been surprised when Teyla and her fellow Councilmember Halling had joined them. He wondered if John had decided to go through with the wedding-- _that_ would certainly shock a few people. When Elizabeth and Stephen entered a moment later, Evan fought to keep his face completely neutral. John couldn't be announcing his marriage, could he?

Shuffling some papers as he stood, John cleared his throat. “Thank you all for coming. Everyone here knows that the Genii are gathering their forces. We have to hope that it's too late in the year for them to begin an invasion, and that gives us time.” He met their gazes, one by one, his eyes cold and hard. “But while it gives us time to prepare, it also gives them time to increase their army of Wraith.” Evan felt Ronon tense as Elizabeth and Stephen drew in shocked breaths. “We don't know their numbers,” John continued, “or how to fight them, but I will not let them chase us from our homeland again.”

Raising a hand to forestall questions, John turned to his advisors. “The Athosians have pledged to ally with us—not through marriage, but because they've been suffering the Wraith this whole time, and know that they cannot be allowed to run rampant the way they once did.” That was news to Evan. The legends had always described the Wraith as anathema to the Lanteans and their magic in particular, though he'd been questioning those stories since his men were killed at the border where their magic was so weak it was all but gone. And John wasn't getting married. He was glad for that—Rodney made John happy, and he deserved some part of his life to be free from the burdens of ruling.

“Wraith.” Ronon crossed his arms and leaned forward. “I never thought they were real. Stories say they're seven feet tall and impossible to kill, but that can't be true.” He gave a wicked smile. “Anything can be killed.”

“Easy for you to say,” Evan said, nudging Ronon in the ribs. “I put a half dozen bolts through one with my crossbow, and it hardly missed a step."

“Bet it couldn't run with its head cut off,” Ronon responded.

“Well, there's our answer—let's just send Ronon out to cut off all their heads,” Rodney said with a snort.

“Our best weapon,” John said, ignoring the exchange, “is our magic. And that...” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It's running out. Our magic is almost gone.”

Evan gasped and immediately reached for his power. It felt the same as it always had, and he clutched it, as if it could slip beyond his grasp if he weren’t careful. No, John had to be wrong.

“Trust me,” John said, glancing at Evan and then Radek, who frowned as if also testing his strength. “I can feel it, through the city.” John sat down again, and promptly shattered most of the truths Evan had known since he was old enough to understand them. Their magic didn't come from the land, but from a supply of ancient power stored beneath the city. The Awakening hadn’t happened in response to the birth of Evan's generation, but because John had asked the city for magic. “My mother always promised there would be magic here,” John shrugged, “and the city did what it could, but the system is so old...”

“So fix it,” Ronon said. “Your people built it in the first place.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Why not?” Radek asked. “We've fixed other systems. Almost a quarter of the residential areas were damaged when we got here, and those have been repaired.”

“This is different,” John argued.

“John.” Rodney stood and spoke for the first time. A look passed between them, and Evan understood that they'd had this discussion before. “We have to try. I know you think the city responds only to you, but I can use the transporters. So can Radek and Evan. Who's to say we can't use the chair, too?”

“Chair?” Radek asked, but Rodney waved him to silence. John stood quietly, inner turmoil written on his features.

After a moment, Stephen rose to stand by Rodney. “If it can't be repaired, it's best if we found out now. But let them try.”

Evan wondered if John would balk just because his advisor spoke in favor of it, but after a moment he gave Stephen a curt nod.

Their party was almost too large for the transporter, but they squeezed in together, and Evan found himself next to Halling. What the tall man thought was anyone's guess, and Evan wondered how firm the Athosians' resolve to join them in war would hold if the Lanteans couldn't bring magic to the battle. The thought that it might run out made Evan go cold. They relied on it in so many ways—not just for healing, but to forge weapons and armor, to grow and store crops. He tried to picture what it would be like to live without it, and could barely wrap his mind around the idea.

John led them down a hallway Evan had never seen before. The lights flared to life as they walked, and he could feel an undercurrent of fresh air from somewhere. “In here,” John directed, and they filed into a small room with dark red metal paneling. A chair was sitting on a pedestal in the exact center of the similarly tiled floor. Everyone shied away from it except John, who approached the chair and sat. He closed his eyes and leaned back, and the chair lit up behind him, glowing faintly blue. Evan could feel...something. No more than a tingle on the back of his neck, but a quick glance showed that the others who could use magic felt it, too. “Well,” John said, sitting up again, “she wants to meet you.”

“She?” Evan asked, stepping forward. John frowned but then quickly schooled his features. It was the same look Carson had had when Evan had told him someone else had healed his wound. This had been John's secret, his place. The chair even looked like a throne.

“The city,” John answered simply. Then he stood and beckoned to Evan.

“You're letting him go first?” Rodney protested with an indignant squawk. John quieted him with a gesture, and Evan realized that John wasn't entirely sure that it was safe. Evan nodded, willing to accept the risk as always.

Evan sat, and before he could ask what he was supposed to do, the tingle on the back of his neck spread to his whole body, and John was right, it was a “she,” and she was a mixture of loneliness, protectiveness, loss, and hope. He felt her touching his mind gently, brushing across those parts of Evan that mirrored those same emotions. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Evan asked, _How can we fix the magic?_ There was a blur of images: dark caves, water crashing in great waves, wind across a broad plain, a stretch of barren rock, a storm flashing in the sky. He tried to make sense of them, to put them in some kind of context, but they were gone. _Hello?_ There was no response. Slowly he became aware of someone shaking his shoulders, and he blinked, opening his eyes to see John leaning over him in concern.

“You okay? Should I send for Carson?” The others had crowded in behind John, and Evan gave them a reassuring smile as he stood shakily.

“I'm fine. You're right, she does talk. Sort of.” Evan bent his knees just to make sure they still worked and stepped off the pedestal. It had been like following his magic so far down a hole that he lost the sensation of his body entirely. “I asked how to fix the magic, but—”

“You just saw a bunch of pictures.” John finished for him. Evan nodded. “Yeah—me, too. I'm not sure she can tell us.”

“You're forgetting one thing.” Rodney looked excited. He lifted his chin and added with a smirk, “My magic.”

“No.” John’s voice was harsher than Evan had ever heard it. “Not after the last time.” Radek nodded in agreement, and even Elizabeth and Stephen shared a look of concern.

“I do not understand,” Teyla said, looking from Rodney to John.

Neither of the men answered as they stared at each other in a contest of wills. Evan took the two steps to her side and whispered, “Rodney is unique. His magic is...well, magic. If I shaped a rock, he could look at the traces and know.” Teyla looked baffled, and Evan tried to explain. “You might look at a painting and know whose work it was by the style, the colors and brushstrokes.” Teyla nodded. “It's the same for him with magic.”

“Then why—” Teyla gestured toward the two men. Halling stepped closer to listen, and even Ronon shifted toward them.

“Why not let him in the chair,” Evan said. “There was this one time...” Evan had been a trainee, having just attained the age when he could join the army. A sickness had spread through the city; it tapped magic, threaded around it and twisted it somehow, so that weavings and manipulations went wrong. People were dying, but not from the illness alone. They died when someone who was sick released their magic in a burst—metal workers shredded the towers around them, healers stopped heartbeats and ruptured blood vessels in anyone near. Their healer at the time, Carolyn, tried everything she could before she finally succumbed, working in isolation until the end. Finally Rodney had stepped forward, barely twenty but confident that he could trace the illness to its cause. He had—an ancient experiment gone wrong, released during explorations of the city—and had nearly died, lost in the connections where the taint had passed from person to person and where it had lingered like stagnant pools. Despite that, he'd worked tirelessly for days, guiding Carson and his new assistant Jennifer as they seared the bad threads from the populace. “That illness was like a system of magic, too,” Evan concluded. 

Teyla nodded. “I see.” She gave Rodney an appraising look.

In the end, Rodney won the argument when John finally conceded that they had no choice. “But I don't like it,” John muttered, following Rodney to the chair. He hovered as the chair grew bright once again, hands resting on Rodney's shoulders. They were still for a long time.

Then slowly, as if awakening from a deep sleep, Rodney opened his eyes. “I saw it,” he whispered, voice tinged with wonder. “It's—I need a map. I don't think I can explain it otherwise.” He snapped his fingers, as if one of them might have a map squirreled away in their pockets at that moment.

“Food first,” John said, sounding relieved. “We should eat, and make our plans.” He glanced around at the assembly. “I'd like everyone's input,” he told them, shifting to face his advisors. “If we're going to try to fix this, _and_ draw up plans for defense against both Wraith and Genii, we're all going to have to take part.”

His advisors nodded. Evan thought that they looked both eager and relieved to finally be involved. John seemed to think that Stephen and Elizabeth hungered for power, but Evan wasn't so sure. His father often spoke of the fierce, clipped battles against the Genii, and how the two advisors had faced the threat with calm leadership. Evan believed that they were loyal to the crown, but he didn't know how far that loyalty extended toward John. They'd seen to his needs as a growing boy, to be sure, but he and John had shared enough childhood memories that Evan knew they'd been distant. Even now, John had difficulty getting close to people, and rarely spoke of his feelings. It was one of the reasons Evan approved of Rodney, who'd done so much to bring John out of his emotional shell.

By the time they regrouped in the library, Elizabeth had arranged for a meal to be brought to the nearby conference room. They gathered maps and papers, the research that had been prepared about the Wraith so far, and Peter, who looked like he hadn't slept since Evan had returned two days ago.

Almost before the first map had been unfurled on the conference table, Rodney began writing on it. Evan winced. Having tried his hand at map-making, he knew how long it took to draw them out. But soon he was as fascinated as the others, for a clear pattern was starting to emerge. Red lines spiked out from the city like a star, and Rodney drew a final X at the end of the last one with a flourish.

“Power stations and buried conduits,” Rodney told his audience. “The magic does come from the land--each station draws and stores energy from wind, water, heat, or lightning.” He tilted his head and studied what he’d drawn, and then reached for a roll and a slab of cheese, picking up the pen again and humming thoughtfully while he ate. 

Moving out of his way as Rodney walked around the table, Evan realized that the places that were marked with an X might match the landscapes he'd seen while in the chair. No, he was certain they did, especially when John took the pen from Rodney and corrected a few lines on the map. “The coastline here isn't quite right,” he said, drawing a different curve to the south. “And here—the hills start in the wrong place.”

One of the stations was near Murrow. Evan frowned, trying to recall if he’d felt anything out of the ordinary when he’d made David’s bathing spring into a warm one. He didn’t think so, but then, he hadn’t been looking. Shaking his head to banish distracting thoughts, Evan refocused on the conversation.

“How does it work?” Radek asked, leaning forward. “Or rather, why doesn't it work?”

“The power we're getting now is a trickle,” Rodney answered. “There was barely enough for me to follow it. The only reason we've had any magic at all is because the city has been collecting and storing that trickle for thousands of years.” He tapped his fingers on the desk as if thinking, though Evan suspected he'd already worked most of it out. “Either the stations are in disrepair, or the conduits are. Or both. And like John said, we've used up most of that reserve, and we’re not getting enough back to replace it.”

“Can they be repaired?” Evan asked. He'd always known deep in his gut that the magic he possessed would never be enough for great feats such as raising stone walls like those that surrounded the city, and had assumed that the fault lay in his watered-down blood, not the power itself. But maybe that wasn’t the case after all. He fought down a surge of excitement, though a thread curled through his stomach at the possibility of achieving the kinds of things their ancestors had done.

“We'll have to find one of the conduits,” Rodney said. “Figure out what it's made of, and why it’s broken.”

“And the power stations?” Radek prompted.

“It wouldn’t do any good to fix the conduits and not the stations.” Rodney looked to John, who straightened from his examination of the map but didn’t answer.

“The farthest one is barely ten day’s ride....” Ronon leaned over and tapped the map's upper corner, in the mountainous area between Lantea and Sateda.

Rodney shook his head. “Plus time to fix the conduit along the way, and time to find the power station at the end of it.” He forestalled Ronon's protest by adding, “We can't know exactly what the stations look like or how to get to them. The conduits are far below ground, which has nothing to do with obstacles at the surface. It could take--” He shrugged. “Well, I have no idea how long it could take.”

Stephen had been keeping to the back of the group, but he stepped forward now and regarded them all intently. “I might not know magic, or what this system entails. Fixing it might solve all of our problems. But,” he held up a finger, “I do know that our ancestors lost the war even with this system working properly.”

“I have a theory about that, actually,” Peter spoke up at the same time Teyla said, “The Wraith do not have the numbers they once did.”

Peter nodded graciously to Teyla, and she continued, “The Wraith all but disappeared after the war. The Genii can not have awakened but a fraction of them--believe me, we would have seen the effects by now.”

“Why wait, then?” Elizabeth asked. “If we strike when their numbers are still small, there might be a chance.”

Evan raised his eyebrows at the hard tone of her voice. Here was the woman his father spoke of, who had led a flanking charge against Commander Cowen’s forces when the city had been besieged. Evan had always known her as the conservative advisor who relayed King Patrick’s wishes and fussed over appearances. How excluded had John’s advisors felt all these years? Evan thought that John was right to involve them now.

“But we can’t take the fight to them,” Rodney replied. “Even if there were more power, we still can’t use magic beyond our borders.”

“Maybe you’ve come to rely on magic too much,” Stephen argued. “We fought the Genii before without it.”

John raised a hand for silence. “You’re both right,” he said. “And if I thought we could find the Wraith facility without spending time and men we can’t afford, I’d consider it.” He faced Stephen and continued, “It will be difficult enough to repair these power stations. We should also think about sending riders to warn people in the outlying towns between here and Genara, and maybe bring them back to the city. We’ll need fortifications, and provisions to withstand another siege.” He rubbed his face, looking frustrated. “There are too many things to do without readying a strike force on top of it.”

Peter cleared his throat. “About the magic?” he asked. John blinked and nodded at him to continue. “I’ve re-read everything I could find about the war, which isn’t much. Two things stood out--one, that it was partly the length of the war that drained our ancestors’ magic. It’s hard to say for sure, because of course there’s nothing in the library that was written during the evacuation.” Pursing his lips in thought, Peter continued, “Actually, I wonder if there’s so little about the Wraith because they took those papers with them to Chian.”

“And the other thing?” John asked patiently.

“Oh, yes. There’s some kind of shield that can be raised around the city.” Evan joined in the chorus of exclamations that greeted this statement, and Peter smiled, looking pleased to be the bearer of such news. “We wondered how Atlantis stood all this time when we’ve never even found ruins of other cities. It has to be the answer.”

Evan could picture it. Their ancestors had been losing the war and running out of power for their magic. They must have had to decide whether to stay and use the remaining power to fight, or to use it to keep Atlantis whole so that one day their descendants could return. What a terrible choice to have to make.

“That could make all the difference,” John said. “We have to get those stations up and running.” He gazed around at the group, and his eyes shone. “Let’s make a plan.”

It was easier to say so than to do it. Not knowing what they would encounter, Radek, Peter, and Rodney discussed the different kinds of magic that might be needed to make repairs. Ronon and Halling knew as much about patrols and the needs of a small party as Evan did, and made recommendations he agreed to readily as he wrote up a list of armaments and provisions. John conferred with Teyla about the route when it was decided that the conduit heading toward Athos would take them to the closest station. Elizabeth and Stephen drew up plans to prepare Atlantis for another siege.

~*~

Though John looked like he was ready to mount his horse the moment they were done, it would take the rest of the day and another full one to prepare what they needed. Evan spent the afternoon meeting with the senior officers of the army. Very few of them had fought the Genii the first time; those men, like Evan’s father, had mostly since retired. Their army now was made up of the generation who were born or grew up in Lantea. Though untested in battle, they were more than willing to fight for their home.

That done, he walked to the training fields to find the unit he needed. Metal, fire, and water would round out their set of skills, and Evan had just the soldiers in mind. Much of the time, the army worked as civil engineers, helping to build towns and roads, dams and bridges, and units were formed toward that end. One week every month was spent in the city, running drills and battle simulations. Evan rotated units for patrols, as well, so that every group gained equal experience. But despite the occasional skirmish on the borders, they had only known peace, and the threat of the Genii had always seemed far-off. They would have to become a true army by the end of winter.

Evan wasn’t surprised to find the soldiers he was looking for at the far edge of the field, in an area cordoned off for working with magic. He leaned against the fence and watched as the unit commander, Jason Markham, lifted a large crossbow and aimed it at a distant target. He blew a curl of black hair out of his eyes and fired. A bolt flew, and seconds later the entire target--and several feet of soil around it--burst apart. Pieces of flaming wood rained down, some of them close enough to Evan that he had to duck.

Laura Cadman, a petite strawberry blonde, let out a whoop. “I told you it would work!” She slapped Jason on the shoulder and ran to see the damage.

“Ancestors,” Evan swore. “Do I even want to know?” He hopped the fence and walked over, carefully avoiding the burning ruins of the target.

Nate Stackhouse turned, brushing dirt from his sandy colored hair, making it barely messier than it had been before. He answered, “Bit of a pet project, sir,” nodding to indicate the weapon Jason was holding. “We were working on a stronger crossbow, and Laura decided we might as well add a little extra oomph.”

“A little?” Ben Reed chimed in with a laugh. He shook out his uniform and added, “I’d just like to mention I had nothing to do with this.” Evan raised a skeptical eyebrow. The tall soldier might not be known as an instigator, but he had no doubt encouraged the others.

“Me neither,” Neil Coughlin added from where he sat on the ground watching. “I just came to put out the fires.” With that, he gestured in a circle with his hand, and Evan felt the humidity in the air increase. Smoldering chunks of the target sizzled and went cold on the grass.

Jason held up the weapon. “It’s all metal, see?” He plucked the string. “I worked out how to spin the steel threads and Nate made the bolts. It was Laura’s idea to add a charge at the front. You know how she is about making things explode.”

Evan certainly did; Laura’s skill with fire was legendary. Evan took the crossbow when Jason offered it. The weapon was all one piece with no joints or seams. Though he could get a sense of the magic in the metal, he could never work it like Jason or Nate could. Picking up another bolt from the little folding table, Evan sucked in his breath. That he could certainly feel. Niter, sulphur, and charcoal were packed into the hollow cylinder of the bolt. A separate chamber at the back held something else, but before he could probe it, Laura trotted back over.

“We made a good-sized crater over there. Hello, sir.” She grinned and took the bolt from him. “Remember when I asked you about minerals and salts that would burn?” Evan nodded. He did, vaguely, but it had been months ago. “I kept having problems igniting it,” she said. Tapping on the back of the bolt, she added, “Finally I just packed phosphor here so that it burns while the bolt is being fired. Then when it hits, the chamber splits open and,” she clapped her hands, “boom.”

Boom, indeed. Evan was intrigued. “So you need someone with fire magic to light the phosphor? What would happen if you lit it but didn’t shoot it?”

Laura shrugged. “I could have put a fuse in, but it’s more fun when I get to do it myself.” She waved her hand and added dismissively, “If the second chamber isn’t punctured, the phosphor just burns out. Might get a bit hot, but the crossbow’s all metal, so it doesn’t matter. It’s the spark from fire that causes the explosion, not the heat.”

Handing the crossbow carefully back to Jason, Evan grinned. “I might have you make a few more of those,” he said. “But later. We have a mission.” He took a deep breath, then told them everything he’d learned about the Genii and the Wraith, news the rest of the army would be hearing the next day from the officers. Their grim faces quickly turned to shock when he also related what John had said about their magic. “But that last part is only for your ears just now,” Evan said. “We’re hoping to set things right before anyone even realizes. I chose you all in particular because we’ll need your magic.” 

Rodney had only been able to guess, but between Evan’s skill with rocks and minerals, Laura’s fire, Nate’s and Jason’s metal abilities, and Neil’s ability to work with water and weather, he hoped that they could cover all the possibilities. Ben, too, would be an asset, as he was able to sense the presence of other people, and sometimes read their intentions. No Genii would be able to sneak up on their group.

“We leave the day after tomorrow,” Evan told them. “Try not to blow yourselves up in the meantime.”

Jason nodded, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “We heard about Aiden and the others. I wanted to give you our condolences, and if there’s anything we can do...”

“Thank you,” Evan said with a nod. “Just come to the memorial tomorrow.” He turned and walked back to the fence before his composure could slip. He knew he couldn’t have prevented what had happened, but a thread of guilt still ran through him nonetheless. Aiden had been a good man, and Walker and Stephens had just started families. Donovan had had a love for pranks, and Morrison could have made his living with his voice. They were all the first casualties of the coming war. He ground his teeth, wondering how many more they would lose before it was over.

~*~

Evan hated speaking at memorials. As Field Commander he had had to preside over these occasions before, though not often. And it was different now that the news about the Genii and the Wraith was common knowledge among the soldiers. Though death always hit them hard, the soldiers looked especially grim in the muted light of the assembly hall that evening. Standing at the podium on a raised dais, Evan spoke fondly of the unit he’d patrolled with the most often, speaking a little about each man in turn.

“...And so, remember their sacrifice in the months to come. May we all be as brave and strong of heart as they were.” Evan stepped back in the silence that followed his speech, and John stood to take his place.

“Commander Lorne is right,” John started. “We all need to be brave and strong. But we also need hope--hope like a shining candle guiding us through the dark times ahead.  
.  
“This is my home. It is in my blood, and was in the blood of the men who died protecting it. We fight for the land that is in our blood--not for glory, nor for greed, but because it is ours. The Genii may try to spill that blood to prove it, but we know it already in our hearts. Your bravery and strength give me confidence, but it is your blood that gives me hope. Let our hope shine so brightly that it blinds those who would stand against us and sends them fleeing back into the shadows behind them.”

Evan was the first to salute him, and then the others stood as one and followed suit. John nodded his head in silent acknowledgement and walked off the stage. Evan knew John felt the loss as keenly as any of them, but was afraid that showing it would make him seem weak. Well, true or not, what they all needed just then was something to believe in, and John had given it to them.

Lingering to speak to each of the grieving families, Evan felt his gut twist into knots to see what the Genii fear had wrought. When the last person had left the hall, he noticed that John had waited for him near the stairs to the central towers. “You spoke well,” Evan told him.

“I spoke briefly,” John corrected with a smile. “Is everyone ready to leave tomorrow?”

“Ready and eager,” Evan replied. He turned to leave, adding, “Don’t stay up in the library all night.”

John waved his assent, probably because the relevant maps and books had been packed already. Even so, Evan doubted John would get much sleep.

Evan didn’t think he’d sleep much either. He walked the city instead, through the soldiers’ quarters and past the pubs and inns that catered to them, then beyond to the markets, closed this late in the evening. Lights shone above the streets and in windows from the ground level to the tops of the towers. In those rooms, people were cooking suppers, bathing, washing clothes. He’d grown up so accustomed to using the city’s vast array of amenities, he hardly thought about it anymore. But he’d been thinking hard the last two days.

Those things took power. Most of them had worked from the moment the first returned Lanteans had set foot within the city walls. Wonderful ancient artifacts, people called them, near enough to magic as made no difference. He was beginning to believe it didn’t.

Power, stored beneath the city. Conduits that ran underground throughout the land. How different was using a stove to heat food from starting a fire through what they called magic? It had to be one and the same. They didn’t have power--merely the ability to channel the city’s. Why else couldn’t they use magic beyond their borders?

He wondered if the magic had evolved naturally out of their ancestors’ other accomplishments, or if they’d had it in some form and had only sought to augment it because of the war, that out of desperation they’d turned their skills toward gaining power no one else had, not even the Wraith. It must have been their greatest weapon, and in the end they’d had to abandon it. 

They would head toward Athos tomorrow, following the conduit that ran north. Teyla, Halling, and Ronon would travel with them for a while before heading to their homes to meet with their Council and Assembly. Three united forces against the Genii and their Wraith, and their expedition might make all the difference. No, he didn’t think he’d sleep much at all.


	5. Chapter 5

John wanted to strangle Rodney a little. It was past sunrise already, and the man was checking the cart one last time--as if he hadn’t directed the loading of every single item that had been placed in it. He fussed over the tents and he fussed over the equipment, but mostly he fussed over the food.

Evan threw him an amused smirk as a snippet of Rodney’s mumbled tirade reached them where they waited on their horses at the base of the tower near the north gates. John was sure the kitchen staff had been diligent about packing provisions, unless they’d finally snapped under the strain of Rodney’s unwanted oversight and thrown lemon into everything. He was afraid some day they would.

Apparently satisfied, Rodney mounted the placid mare he rode whenever he had to travel. He claimed she was part sheep, for she would wander after any horse that walked in front of her without having to be guided. He had a map partially unfolded in his lap in moments, hardly even lifting his head as the party passed through the gates and onto the broad plain that stretched to their northern border.

Teyla and Halling took the lead, for they’d come this way just a week before, and would know which watering places were still good and which had dried out in the heat, as well as a dozen other small details that would make the journey easier. Evan and Ronon had nudged their horses forward to ride with them, and the soldiers Evan had chosen rode at the rear. That left John and Rodney just in front of the cart in the middle, which was being driven by Ben Reed at the moment.

It amazed John, the amount of concentration that Rodney could put into any endeavor. He trusted Evan to have found men and women who could do what was necessary, but John put his faith in Rodney to make it work. If Rodney had decided it could be done, he didn’t question it. Even now, the man was so focused on his maps and notebook that he didn’t even notice when errant papers slid from his lap. John caught each one with a quick twitch of air and tucked them into a saddlebag. 

Near mid-morning, Rodney looked up and called, “Here! We need to stop here.” He slid from the saddle to stand in the middle of the road, closing his eyes in concentration. John realized then why Rodney had been so distracted--he’d been using his magic the whole time to feel out the conduit.

If John had thought that there would be a glorious show of power, he was wrong. Rodney just stood there, staring at the dirt near his feet. John stared, too, as if he could see through hundreds of feet of soil and rock to the mysterious line beneath them. After a few minutes Rodney frowned and shook his head.“I can feel it,” he said, “but I can’t feel what it is.” He sounded irritated, like he expected Merlin himself to pop out of thin air and explain what needed to be done. 

Slipping from the saddle to join him, Evan crouched and put his hand to the ground. “Here?”

“About a hundred feet that way, actually,” Rodney responded, pointing east toward a copse of trees on a hillside.

Evan nodded and closed his eyes. It was times like these when John marveled at the diversity of their magics. He could twist and move air, as well as solidify it, but only within fifty feet or so. Rodney could have told Evan that the conduit was half a mile distant and it wouldn’t have made a difference. And yet it was all the same power. After a moment Evan nodded. “I can feel it, too. There’s definitely a man-made structure under there.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Nate, Jason? Part of it’s metal.”

The two soldiers dismounted and stood holding hands. It only took a few seconds before they were saying “Yes, there,” and “But what is it?” Those two were close enough in skill--and otherwise--to be able to use their magic in tandem. Evan’s choice had been a good one.

“Well?” Rodney demanded.

Evan shrugged. “I felt a--a tube, I guess, of crystal. A pipe, maybe.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “About this big around. The metal inside was--”

“Like the spun threads on our crossbow,” Jason finished. He waggled his pinky finger. “Maybe this wide?”

“The flow of magic feels diminished here,” Rodney told them. “Can you find--”

But Evan was already mentally delving back into the ground, and shortly reported, “There’s a crack in the pipe. I think the metal inside has corroded.”

The four spent a while discussing the best way to repair the conduit while the rest of the party dismounted to stretch their legs. Teyla and Halling stayed near, interested in what was going on. Ronon laid back on the wagon seat after Ben had hopped down to talk quietly with Neil and Laura.

John stood to the side with Rodney, feeling useless. Evan chewed his lip, then said, “I’d thought that they’d built the conduits, and then buried them later. I mean, if they were building a system to use magic--” He shrugged, “--how was there any magic to work with in the first place? But the surrounding rock feels like the metal and quartz has been sucked out of it. I think they constructed the whole line underground, using materials that were already there. I’m glad we only have to fix it--I can’t imagine building it from scratch.”

“But you can fix it?” John asked. He held his breath as the others exchanged glances and finally nodded.

“Fusing the metal together again is easy,” Jason said. “It might be a little thinner in that spot, but it should work.” He smirked. “Unless Evan could push some rock around and get a little metal closer to replace what’s gone.”

Evan gave a great put-upon sigh. “I’m going to be doing all of the heavy work, aren’t I?” His eyes held a gleam of excitement, though, and John knew he was thrilled that his magic was proving to be useful.

“Beats latrine duty,” John told him. “Or digging a well.” Evan agreed with a broad grin; he complained about latrine duty every time he came back from a patrol.

“Does it matter what kind of metal?” Evan asked. “Most of what was here has already been used.”

“The thread’s a mix,” Nate said. He looked at Jason. “Copper and silver?”

“With a base of aluminum,” Jason agreed. “There’s always a ton of that around.”

“But that’s stuck in ores with other minerals,” Nate argued, “it’d be too hard to separate it out--”

Evan rolled his eyes and sat cross-legged on the road as the other two continued to debate. “Right, so whatever I can find,” he said. His brow furrowed, and then his features relaxed as he worked. He was silent for several minutes, then let out a long breath and opened his eyes. “Your turn,” he told Nate and Jason, who continued arguing even as they sat on either side of Evan.

Laura sidled up behind John and Rodney and whispered, “Those two kept up a running debate on the best alloy to use for armor for an entire month on patrol once. I nearly threw myself off a cliff.”

John’s sudden burst of laughter felt like a short downpour on a hot day. The tension drained out of him, and he gave Laura a grateful smile. Even Rodney snorted in amusement, and John allowed himself to hope that they weren’t on a fool’s errand.

Jason and Nate glared at Laura and then worked in silence. John wondered if he’d feel his magic getting stronger as they progressed, or if the city would have to accumulate more power before that happened. The men opened their eyes, and then it was once again Evan’s turn, this time to repair the crystalline pipeline Rodney surmised must act as a protective barrier for the metal wires.

Rodney had already started making notes in a little hardcover book. When the work was done, his gaze became unfocused for a heartbeat, and then he looked up, eyes alight with wonder. “It worked! The power’s flowing unbroken here now.”

John slapped Evan on the back as he pulled the other man to his feet. It could be done.

“It’s that easy?” Ronon sat up and rolled his shoulders.

“Easy?” Rodney snorted. “We only made it look easy.” He walked to the back of the wagon and returned with a flask of cider and four of the small, dense loaves of bread that the kitchen made especially for restoring strength after working with magic. John himself had woven air around the baskets so that the bread and their other provisions wouldn’t go stale as they traveled. Rodney passed out three of the loaves to Evan, Nate, and Jason, unwrapping the cloth from around the last one and taking a huge bite. “We might have to do this hundreds of times.”

“That many?” John frowned, his elation evaporating. It hadn’t taken very long; he’d started to think that they’d be done with the entire enterprise well before the start of winter. But they were only a few hours’ ride out of Atlantis along the shortest of the routes. How many breaks could there be? Thousands of years worth, he realized.

Rodney shrugged. “I can’t tell. It’s like...” He paused to swallow. “Like looking at a line of trees on the horizon. You know the forest is there, but you can’t count the individual trees until you get closer.”

“Let’s hope there are fewer breaks than there are trees in a forest,” Evan said dryly, throwing the flask back to Rodney and walking to his horse.

They repaired six other sections before deciding to stop and make camp. John could still see the lights of Atlantis in the distance, glowing against the night sky.

“Maybe if we just get one or two of the stations fixed it will be enough,” John suggested as they sat around the campfire with their simple supper of stew. 

Rodney hummed a non-committal answer and stared at the flames. John wondered how long he could keep up such taxing work. It was one thing to use magic intermittently, but to use it constantly while riding a horse day after day was another matter entirely. But no, Rodney was stubborn; he’d want to see it through. Not just for the sake of defending Lantea, but to learn what their magic was truly meant to do. 

As if reading his thoughts, Evan commented, “We should take turns monitoring the conduit tomorrow.” He gestured to Nate and Jason. “If I keep a thread of power attached to it while we ride, I should be able to feel where it needs to be fixed, and the same goes for the metal. We can rotate with Rodney.” Jason and Nate nodded agreeably, and John gave them a grateful smile.

Rodney flapped a dismissive hand in response. “You need your strength for the actual repairs.”

“Do you not have others who could do the same work?” Halling asked, setting aside his plate. John had ridden with the imposing Athosian Councilman for a while in the afternoon, and it seemed he’d finally lost some of his diffidence around the Lanteans.

“Metalworking is common enough,” Rodney replied, earning indignant protests from Jason and Nate. “But it’s hard to work from a distance,” he added in acknowledgment. “And of course metal and ores are related, but some people can only work glass while others barely have enough power to crack a thin piece of marble. Finding others who could do the work might take as long as just doing it ourselves.”

John thought Evan was looking a little too pleased at the implication that he was so vital. “I’ll make you the Royal Sculptor when this is over,” John told him jokingly, tossing a few blades of grass into the air and sending them spinning with a little breeze to land in Evan’s stew. “I bet there will be enough magic for you to create huge statues of me all over the city.” Evan snorted, and suddenly the ground under John sunk several inches. He yelped and just managed not to spill his own supper.

“Children,” Rodney admonished fondly. “Let’s just keep on with what we’ve been doing. We know it works, and it’s not like we don’t have enough time.”

“We hope,” John added quietly, shifting to get comfortable in his little sinkhole. He turned to Ronon and the Athosians. “What about you? If we’re moving at such a slow pace, maybe you ought to go on ahead.”

Ronon shrugged. “Still heading in the right direction to get home. And like Rodney said, it’s not like we don’t have the time.”

But time, John knew, was something all the magic in the world couldn’t produce more of. They reached Lake Hyppon on the second day, and stopped for lunch. While he was joking with Teyla and Halling that he wished he’d been in charge of naming things in their rediscovered land, his mind was elsewhere. A larger party than theirs, traveling at a normal pace, should have camped near its banks the first night. They were already half a day behind.

He’d been reminded of the drought, too, as they passed farms with pathetic-looking crops withering in the heat. How could they survive a siege next year if they had no stores from the summer? For that matter, he wasn’t sure they’d have enough to survive the winter.

~*~

The landscape slowly changed to rolling hills as they continued traveling, and the farms they encountered were fewer and farther distant. He knew that the road they followed now would give out when it reached the northernmost town of Barrick. 

“Have you ever killed a Wraith?” John asked Teyla as they rode. “Not you personally--I mean...” He glanced at the Athosian, who regarded him with obvious amusement, and John felt himself flush with embarrassment. “Well, maybe you personally,” he amended. He wasn’t entirely sure how their military was structured, but had gotten the feeling that almost everyone went through the training, even if they didn’t serve.

“It can be done,” she replied, “though they prefer to strike and fade back into the shadows. They are weaker before they have taken life, for such sustenance protects them from most wounds. As an army...” She shook her head and stared at the distant hills. With a sigh, she continued, “I cannot picture it.”

About to respond, John was interrupted by Rodney’s weary “Here.” They pulled up their horses and dismounted to repeat the tedious task of another repair.

“I wish I could do something,” John said for what had to be the dozenth time. He could work his magic alongside another--sometimes--but it was useless underground, and it wouldn’t change the amount of energy used, regardless.

Instead he helped Ronon, Laura, and Teyla walk the horses to a nearby stream. Ben followed, carrying the extra water bottles. “Rodney is getting tired,” Laura remarked when they were out of earshot. “He didn’t even gripe when Ben got dirt in the morning coffee.”

“On accident!” Ben replied, taking the first bottle and crouching to fill it.

“Rodney knows his limits,” John said, though he wondered if he’d say anything even if those limits were reached.

They decided to eat their midday meal while they were stopped, though it was early. John had suggested it when he noticed Rodney swaying on his feet when they returned with the horses. He didn’t dare comment on it directly--Rodney would balk at the implication that he wasn’t strong enough--so John went at the issue sideways. “I didn’t think it would take this much work.” 

“The system was built to last, but any maintenance would have been done as it was needed,” Rodney said. “We’re catching up on thousands of years of neglect.”

“Okay, sure. But what kind of shape are the power stations likely to be in? What happens if we get there and you’re so worn out from monitoring this conduit that you can’t even figure out how to fix it?” John kept his eyes on his bowl, though he could sense Rodney’s frown.

Evan spoke up when Rodney didn’t answer. “We’re what--almost halfway to the first one? John’s right. We have to figure out if Nate and Jason can feel breaks in the threads if we’re going to keep this up.” He cleared his throat and added, “I’ve been feeling along the line all morning, too. There were three breaks in the pipe when we didn’t stop. I guess those don’t always indicate where the power isn’t getting through.”

“Fine,” Rodney agreed. “We might have to split up at some point, anyway.” His lack of protest told John how tired he really was. Rodney pointed a finger at Evan and added, “I hope you fixed those breaks, because I don’t want to have to do this all over again in a couple of years. And you’d better keep it up from now on. I can’t be the only one doing all the work.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Rodney, I fixed them.” As he mounted Thorn, John heard him mutter, “By Thor’s skinny ass, I’d better be able to flatten a whole mountain full of Wraith when we’re done.” 

By their seventh day of riding, tall grasses had completely replaced the wheat that had bordered the sides of the road. They’d circled Barrick and continued on, and there were no other settlements this far from the city. Only the broad plateau that continued north into Athos was ahead of them now.

Rodney seemed better rested now that he wasn’t using his magic constantly, though John had caught Evan rubbing his face and splashing water on it from his canteen when he thought no one was looking. Nate and Jason rode in the wagon more and more often, as one or the other of them took a turn keeping track of the metal line in the conduit. John felt a little guilty shifting the bulk of the work off of Rodney, but if worse came to worst, surely they could find _someone_ else with enough earth and metal magic to replace the three soldiers before they wore themselves out. Rodney was different, his magic more unique. John told himself it was practicality, not his feelings for Rodney that made him think it.

When they stopped yet again to mend the power line, Neil nudged his horse closer to John and said, “I’ve been thinking. There’s enough moisture in the air for rain, but it doesn’t rain.” He lifted a hand to demonstrate, and water pooled in his cupped hand. “Even close to the rivers and creeks, the land seems...brittle. The crops are doing poorly except in places where they’re tended with magic.”

“You think it’s all related,” John said. He’d wondered that himself, ever since Atlantis had shown him the dust-filled vision from the past.

“Yes. These power stations are supposed to gather energy from wind and heat and things, right? If the stations aren’t producing power, maybe the system is pulling it from the land instead, somehow.”

“The land gave them magic,” John recited. He shifted in his saddle, working it out. They had such a limited grasp of the things their ancestors had built. They lived in the city, and they used magic without really understanding how all of it worked. He supposed it was possible. “Wouldn’t our ancestors have thought of that, though?”

Neil shrugged. “Like Rodney said, they thought they’d be around to maintain it. They might not have even realized that the system was capable of doing it.”

“They knew it by the end,” John said. “It happened last time.” Maybe watching their land slowly die had been the last push for their ancestors to leave. He wondered if he would be able to do the same, if it came down to it. They’d probably caused the current drought by overtaxing the magic in the years since their return. He was suddenly grateful there hadn’t been more settlers.

They rode in silence for a while, and John stared at the jagged shapes that slowly came into view, rising from the plains in the distance. They looked like impossibly tall trees, dark and skeletal. He called to Teyla, who nodded to Laura and slowed her horse to allow John to catch up. “Did you pass this way on the way here?”

“No. We traveled farther east, following the road out of Athos.”

“So you didn’t see those up close?” He tilted his chin to indicate the odd trees, and she shook her head. “Hey, Rodney!” John said. “Looks like it won’t be difficult to find the power station, after all.”

Rodney looked up from his notebook and blinked. “Oh. Those must be the lightning rods.”

At that pronouncement, the entire party hunched their shoulders. All but Neil, who laughed and declared, “There’s not a storm cloud in sight.”

John grinned sheepishly. “The only thing that’s eerie about my rooms in the tower are the storms. Sometimes the lightning can be really fierce...” He trailed off, chasing an errant thought. “Rodney, are you sure those are lightning rods?”

Rodney shrugged. “What else would they be?”

The towers were still too far away to see properly by the time dusk fell. They camped early, still a few miles out, none of them eager to sleep at the base of the tall constructs. John stared at them, thinking, until they blended with the dark.

The next morning, shortly after they’d started traveling again, Ronon stood in his saddle and pointed. “They’re moving.”

John squinted to get a better look. Ronon was right; the tops of some of the “branches” seemed to be spinning. “Not lightning rods, then.”

“I’m sure I saw lightning when I was in the chair,” Evan said.

“I think it was Atlantis,” John replied, certain he was right. “One of the power stations was built right into it, and it’s been under us this whole time.”

“But I would have--” Rodney started. Then he pursed his lips and admitted, “No, I wouldn’t have felt it. I only traced the power going to and from the city.”

“It must be where the power originally came from,” Evan said, straightening in the saddle. “The magic they used to build the conduits and stations. Maybe the outlying stations were only built when the power Atlantis gathered wasn’t enough. They must have needed something more consistent than storms.”

“It doesn’t change our plans for now,” John said. “We need to fix this station regardless.” He tilted his head and sent a tendril of magic toward the spinning branches. Sure enough, there was a constant breeze that high up. He followed one of them as it wove its way through the tops of the tree-towers, meeting resistance in more places than not and sending only a few flat panels spinning. Still, he thought that it was a good sign, that the first station they were to fix relied on the wind.

Neil must have been doing the same thing, for he met John’s gaze with a wide smile. Here, their powers overlapped, though Neil followed the moisture in the air rather than the air itself.

“Don’t get too excited,” Rodney cautioned. “We don’t know what needs to be done.”

John grinned. “Yes, we do. The branchy things at the top are flat and are supposed to spin, but most of them aren’t.”

“Branchy things?” Rodney huffed, though the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement.

Nate and Jason stood at the base of the closest tower, each with a hand pressed to its metal side. “There must have been a huge deposit of iron here,” Jason said. “And can you feel the magic worked into it to preserve it from the weather?”

“Neat trick.” Nate grinned. “Feels like aluminum for the spinners; it’s lighter.”

“Don’t get started,” Evan said, craning his head back to look. “Rodney, can you tell where we need to repair things?”

John left them to it and wandered through the towers. They reminded him of the spires in Atlantis, albeit very skinny ones. Their ancestors had built them with magic. It left John wondering how they’d built Atlantis. Which had come first?

Deciding they’d never know, John circled the last tower and headed back to the others. They’d moved on to another one while Ben, Laura, and Neil had started to put up tents. John raised an enquiring eyebrow at Rodney, who told him, “We’ll need to rest, John. Even if we finish today, it would be pointless to move on.”

“We’ll stay with you tonight and leave for Athos tomorrow,” Halling said, “after we know if your magic can be restored. It will make a difference in how we plan.”

John nodded and settled on the ground to watch. He’d barely gotten comfortable when Ronon leaned down to smack him on the shoulder. “Let’s hunt,” Ronon suggested. “A farewell feast.” He gestured toward Teyla and Halling, who rose and joined him.

John stood again. Ronon was right; sitting around was pointless. “Anyone else want to go?” he offered.

“Neil and I are going fishing,” Laura declared, to the obvious surprise of Neil.

“You always want me to cheat and just pull them out of the water,” he accused.

She lifted her arms, hands full of empty water bottles. “Well, it’s not like I brought a pole,” she laughed. “And it’s not cheating.”

John waved them off, grabbing a simple bow and full quiver from his pack.

“That hardly looks like it would pierce a rabbit’s hide at ten paces,” Halling remarked critically as they mounted their horses.

“Magic-made,” Ronon told him. “Specially grown and treated wood.” He hefted his own similar bow with a grin. Halling looked unconvinced, so Ronon pulled an arrow from the quiver attached to the back of his saddle and drew the bow in one smooth movement. He let fly, and the arrow arced toward a tree in the distance.

John watched its flight, then twitched just a bit of the nearby breeze so that the arrow hit true to the mark. Ronon was good, but he’d chosen a target well beyond his normal range just to show off.

“I saw that,” Teyla whispered with a wink.

John ducked his head guiltily, hoping Ronon hadn’t noticed. He tended to be a little touchy about unwanted assistance. But the large man was racing ahead, oblivious to the fact that he was probably scaring away game for miles. Not that it mattered. He knew his friend had suggested the outing as a distraction as much as anything, for which John was grateful.

“Your magic is truly amazing,” Teyla said. She sounded wistful. “As beautiful as our cities are, I wonder what our people might have built if we had its use.”

“Well, we’ve managed to build a couple dozen villages,” John said dryly.

“Mmm,” Teyla acknowledged. “But what will you do when its full strength is restored and the Wraith are defeated?”

“Who knows?” John answered. “Build roads so smooth you could glide along them. Waystations with fountains and hot springs for weary travelers. Ships that carry you into the sky.” He’d thought about that last one even before he’d considered having more power at his disposal. Try as he might, he could never lift himself from the ground.

“And weapons?” Teyla asked.

“Oh,” John waved his hand. “Weapons. Once the Wraith are gone, who’d need weapons?”

Teyla nodded as though he’d passed some kind of test. Away from Atlantis, John tried to forget he was a prince. It was hard to remember that Teyla had sought her office and gained it through hard work, and not just had it handed to her as a matter of birth. He wondered how she and Halling would describe him to the rest of their Council. He straightened in his saddle and tried to look royal.

That lasted until Ronon signaled that he’d found tracks worth investigating. John was pretty sure he had a silly grin on his face as he spurred Pegasus into a gallop.

Despite the noise they’d been making, they managed to bring down a wild pig that looked much like the stock they traded with the Taranians, though it had probably been generations since the small herd had seen a human, let alone a pen. 

The shadows were just starting to shift as the sun tipped past its zenith when they returned to camp. John had expected an air of jubilation, but there was only calm stillness among the towers, the only movement now the steady spinning at their peaks. His eyes immediately sought out Rodney and found him sitting at the base of the central spire. Evan stood behind him, stiff and alert. Sensing that things might not be well, John left their prize for the others to handle and raced over, landing in a dead run from the saddle.

Turning as John skidded to a halt, Evan held up a hand. “He’s fine, John.”

“Then what--?” Rodney was as still as stone, though his chest rose and fell rhythmically. Looking closer, John saw that his face was strained and pale.

“It’s complicated.” Nate’s voice came from around the corner.

Jason’s joined it from the opposite side. “There’s a lot of small wires to fix.”

“And crystals,” Evan added. “The wires are embedded in them, almost like another entire network in miniature.” He scratched his head, as if trying to figure out a way to explain it. “All of the power is routed through here. They crystals act as switches to regulate the power. Right now Rodney is working out which does what.”

There was something else. “And?” John switched his scrutiny from the tower to Evan. 

“We started the power flowing first by making the flaps on the towers spin, but nothing happened. Then Rodney noticed that it was building up, not flowing back down the conduit.” Looking like he’d swallowed a sour berry, Evan continued, “If we don’t fix it, Rodney said that the whole thing could explode.”

“Explode?” John nearly shouted. He looked up at the tower, wondering if he’d be able to enclose an explosion in a bubble of air. He doubted it.

“Not helping,” Rodney said quietly, opening his eyes. “I know what we need to do, but it’s...well, complicated would be an understatement. I’m guessing that we need to put everything back the way it was, but I have the feeling that if we moved some of the crystals, they would do different things.”

“Things,” John said. “Other than explode, you mean.”

“I said it was complicated,” Rodney said through gritted teeth. John didn’t take offense at his tone, knowing what Rodney was like when he got frustrated. “If we had time, I could tell you exactly what things, but as it is, we’re better off copying the pattern the way our ancestors left it. Only, how am I supposed to tell you what that is? I don’t even think I could draw it.”

They all three turned toward Ben, who was idly checking the hooves of the cart horse for stones. He came eagerly when they called for him, but as soon as they told him what they needed, he stepped back, saying, “It was only that once. And it was an accident. I was drunk.”

“So it should be easier if you’re actually trying,” Rodney said with a flap of his hand. 

“I can’t--” Ben protested. 

Evan leaned against the tower’s side and looked up. “Okay, then. We’ll all just die in a fiery blast when this thing explodes.”

Ben followed his gaze, eyes widening with panic. 

“It could go any minute now,” John added, though truthfully he had no idea. The threat seemed to work, though. Ben nodded, looking determined, and stretched out his hands. Rodney took one and Evan the other, and from around the corners came Nate and Jason, who’d been listening in. They joined hands with Rodney and Evan, and the group closed their eyes.

John had to hope it would work. Ben always said that he couldn’t read thoughts, and even intentions were beyond him unless there were strong emotions involved. John remembered the one occasion when Ben had not only read thoughts, but broadcast them. There had certainly been strong emotions involved then. Rodney had been sitting next to John at some formal dinner. Ben had come up behind them and slapped them on their shoulders, and in that moment John had gotten a sudden flash of Rodney’s thoughts and emotions, and Rodney of John’s. Then Ben had stepped away, not even aware of what he’d done. It had been an intensely awkward moment, at least until they’d processed what had happened, and then...Well. John cleared his throat. This wasn’t the time for reverie.

“Feeling left out?” Laura asked from behind John. 

He turned and gave her a wry smile. “I thought I’d be able to do something. I mean, it’s--” John had been about to say that it was his system, his magic, though he thought of it less in terms of ownership than responsibility. 

A low hum started from the tower, saving John from having to complete his thought. They turned back and looked, and John wondered for one crazy moment if they were all about to die as the hum reached a crescendo. 

But it wasn’t the backlog of power about to burst. They’d done it. They’d fixed the station. John could feel the exact moment that the restored station sent a surge of power. He tingled, just like when he was in the chair. Feeling elated, he sent a gust of wind through the tops of the towers, making the flaps spin like mad. Laura was still staring at the metal construct, looking worried. John elbowed her gently and said, “Don’t you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Laura’s face took on a look of fierce concentration. “I’m not sure. Maybe?”

About to respond, John saw Rodney falter and rushed to his side. Nate and Ben were holding him up between them, but they passed him over wordlessly when John slipped an arm under Rodney’s shoulders. “You okay?”

“M’fine,” Rodney mumbled, sounding anything but.

John helped him to sit in the back of the wagon and dug into their supply of restorative bread. Tossing the wicker basket to Evan so he could pass it out to the others, John waved the unwrapped loaf under Rodney’s nose. “Still fresh,” he said when Rodney didn’t immediately reach for it.

Finally Rodney gave a sigh and took it, eating half-heartedly. After swallowing the first couple of bites, he perked up and looked around as if he didn’t quite remember being helped to the wagon. John let out a sigh of relief and, not caring who saw, leaned down and kissed Rodney’s forehead. “You did it.”

The corner of Rodney’s mouth turned up in a satisfied grin. “Of course I did it.” When Evan cleared his throat, he added, “with help.” 

“You all did it,” John agreed, giving everyone a proud smile. 

Rodney laughed, eyes shining and alight with hope. “We can do this, John. We can restore the magic and defeat the Wraith.”

Yes, John thought, the magic could be restored. But would defeating the Wraith necessarily follow?


	6. Chapter 6

Evan stood and stretched. Telling the others that he was going for a walk, he went looking for Ben, who had disappeared as soon as he’d finished eating their lunch of grilled trout. He wasn’t the most social man at the best of times, simply because his magical empathy often told him more than he wanted to know about his companions. Evan wondered if it was the time he’d spent ferrying instructions from Rodney to Evan, Jason, and Nate that had made Ben seek solitude or the boost they’d given their magic by completing the repairs. His own magic felt...not different, exactly, more like when he was reading and suddenly realized that people had entered the room without him noticing.

He found the soldier sitting at the base of one of the wind towers. Ben was looking to the west, gazing at nothing in particular. Evan didn’t interrupt, and instead sat cross-legged a short distance away.

When the shadows started to lengthen in the afternoon sunlight, Ben opened his eyes. “There’s something out there, but I can’t quite--” He sighed and let his head fall back against the metal.

“Wraith?” Evan tensed. Though they weren’t near the mountains where the Wraith were said to dwell, he feared a confrontation. If it had to be sooner or later, he’d rather it be after they’d restored Lantea’s magic to its former level.

“I don’t know.” Ben sounded miserable. He’d always taken pride in being considered the watchdog of his unit; his uncertainty made a shiver run down Evan’s spine. If he couldn’t get an idea of what was out there, maybe it wasn’t human.

“Were they that bad?” Ben asked. He gestured to Evan and added, “I could feel a little of your--” he cleared his throat, and went on, “I wasn’t trying to pry, but you kept thinking about the Wraith. And you’re worried about someone named David?” He raised his eyebrows, as if his stoic commander wasn’t allowed such mortal concerns.

“I’m worried about _everyone,_ ” Evan answered evasively. Ben certainly didn’t need to know he’d fallen for someone he’d only just met, and for all he knew had already forgotten about him.

Ben _hmmmed,_ sounding skeptical. Then he waggled his fingers and gave Evan a goofy grin. “It’s only a matter of time before I can read your mind, you know.”

“Thor help us all.” Evan snorted, then rose and reached out a hand to help Ben to his feet. “We should let John know about this,” he said. “We still have to decide where we’re going tomorrow.”

When they returned to camp, Rodney had the map unfurled, as though the group had been discussing just that. East, west, or back to Atlantis? 

They sat around the dying fire and Ben briefly explained what he’d been feeling. “Though it’s more of a distant tingling,” he explained.

Tapping the map, John said, “I’m not sure that changes anything. We could go right back to Atlantis and fix the station there, and hope it gets us the power we need. Or we could head east toward the station near Sateda and then go back to Atlantis, or west across the Hyppon river and fix the station in the mountains before going back to the city. The problem with that is that we’d be right on the border with Genara.”

“We’ll have to do it eventually, though, won’t we?” Evan crouched next to John, though they’d all memorized the locations of the power stations long since. “Wouldn’t it be better to get it over with now, before we have to worry about their army being between us and it?”

“The one near Genara is closer,” Rodney added. 

“If you fix the power station before the conduit, won’t that lead to the same kind of problem we just went through?” John eyed Rodney like he wanted to bundle him into the back of the wagon and send him back to the city.

“No. The power was massing in the station, and the bits that regulated it weren’t working yet. As long as we fix those first, it won’t be an issue.” Rodney certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about, though he spoiled it by adding, “Probably.”

John sighed. “All right. If we went back to Atlantis now we’d just be traveling the same ground twice, anyway. I’m not sure I like the idea of heading toward a mass of Genii, but if that’s the case, we’d need to know that, too.” He moved the rocks holding down the corners of the map and it snapped back into a cylinder. Picking it up, John said, “We’ll go west. Get some sleep if you can manage it. I’m going to help with dinner--Ronon’s method of roasting pig involves setting it on fire and hoping for the best.”

Evan lay on his blankets and tried to take a nap. He was weary down to his bones from the work they’d been doing. Snippets of conversation from around the camp reached his resting place, and he felt a twinge of envy at the camaraderie. He missed his unit. Refusing to be caught up in melancholy, he pulled the wooden model of Thorn from his pack and held it against his chest. The real Thorn grazed nearby, neither picketed nor hobbled, for the horse refused to let Evan do either now. Tuning his ears to the sounds of birds and insects instead of his companions’ chatter, he wondered what David would be doing just then. Working in his garden, most likely, or storing up provisions for winter.

The thought made him smile, and he eased into a deep sleep, rousing only when the smell of roasting pig made his stomach rumble loudly enough to wake him. It was dusk; the first bats of the evening were swooping overhead and the summer insects’ daytime melody had switched over to the constant chirp of crickets. Evan tested his magic as he rolled off the blanket and stood. Surprised to find it mostly restored after such a short nap, he stretched happily and padded over to the fire.

After helping himself to a plate of food, Evan sat in the open space between Teyla and Laura and settled back against a boulder. Ronon and the Athosians would be leaving them the next day. Both countries had sizeable armies--certainly bigger than Lantea’s--but Genara had been amassing soldiers for years, probably since they were driven back after the first invasion. He’d begun to think that rulers who would wake the Wraith as a matter of revenge would have no problem conscripting their population into service. They might have both greater numbers _and_ the Wraith.

“Don’t be so gloomy, sour face.” Laura scooted closer and poked Evan in the shoulder. “I’ve been thinking of some new ways we can use our magic for weapons...”

Evan tried to smile as Laura outlined her plans, but he couldn’t help but think of Ben’s “something” to the west, and wonder what it could be.

~*~

In the morning they said their farewells to Ronon, Teyla, and Halling. The Athosian Councilwoman touched her forehead briefly to each of theirs in turn, and Halling clasped their hands and wished them luck. Ronon’s goodbyes were a bit more boisterous; Evan swore he heard John’s ribs creak when the large man lifted him off the ground in a hug. For his part, Evan received a slap on the shoulder that almost bowled him over.

John looked a bit flustered trying to come up with appropriate words, but then he simply saluted them in the Lantean style and mounted Pegasus, looking every inch the prince. Evan mounted Thorn and watched their allies depart to the north and east as their party turned to the west. 

They’d been gone from Atlantis ten days. Evan calculated that if the other stations took as long to fix, they might just finish before the first snows fell. At least travel was easier without having to stop and work their magic every few miles, and they had the opportunity to recover from the work.

Not that they slowed. John kept them to a brisk pace, as though driven to complete their task well within the time they’d allotted themselves. No one argued, though it gave their travel an undercurrent of urgency that silenced talk and made the horses snappish and irritable. 

When they’d stopped to camp on their third night from the station, John unrolled the map again and ran his finger along the path of the Hyppon River. “We’ll have to cross it,” he said, gesturing Evan to join him. “You came through here recently. What do you think?”

Evan tapped the map near the river’s origin in the mountains. “We followed the river for a while from the border, but the Wraith drove us south. I’m not sure what the river is like in this section, but it would be easier to span a ravine in the mountains than try to make a bridge down on the plains where it broadens.” He sighed and added, “Down is easy. Sideways, I can do. Up, well, not so much.”

“But there might still be Wraith there,” Rodney said, crouching stiffly next to John. “Thor, I hate saddles. And sleeping on the ground.” He sighed, and continued, “And though I’d like to take a route that would get us back to Atlantis faster and avoid the Wraith, we aren’t tracking a power conduit that will lead us right to this power station. It’s somewhere here,” he tapped the map, “but if we miss it by going too far south or east, we’ll just have to backtrack.”

“Right,” John said. “So we’ll enter the mountains here...” Evan nodded in all the right places and offered an opinion when it was asked for, but was distracted by a growing unease he couldn’t place. Not that there weren’t things to worry over, but the apprehension was almost palpable, and he felt like he was trying to breathe through thick smoke. When he noticed John and Rodney shifting uncomfortably as well, he stood and looked for Ben.

He saw the man standing near the wagon, his horse’s reins hanging from his hand as though he’d forgotten he still held them. “What is it?” Evan asked as he approached.

“People screaming,” Ben whispered. 

The hair on Evan’s arms lifted in goosebumps. “Where?”

Ben pointed southwest, directly along their line of travel toward the border with Genara. “Can you tell if it’s Genii soldiers, or...” Evan trailed off, refusing to give voice to the possibility that their own people were under attack. Ben only shook his head mutely.

Evan felt real fear now. From Ben, he realized, broadcasting what he sensed. Evan had never felt such debilitating panic before. His knees buckled and his palms hit the ground painfully as he fell forward. He thought he might have screamed, but the voices in his head drowned it out. 

Then it was gone. Evan panted on all fours, getting his breath back, then rose shakily. Ben crouched next to him, clutching his head. When Evan pulled him up, he dropped his hands and looked around as if stunned. Still hunched over the map, John eased his hold on Rodney as Nate and Jason pulled Laura to her feet. Neil climbed sheepishly out from under the wagon. The horses had scattered. 

“What in Freyr’s realm was that?” John straightened and looked at them with wide eyes.

“S-sorry,” Ben said, sounding hoarse. “I didn’t know I could do that. It’s what I was hearing out there.”

The entire party turned to the southwest. Had the Wraith turned on the Genii, or were they across the borders and into  
Lantea? There was no way to know. Evan felt a rush of anxiety that was all his own.

“Well, you’d better learn to control that,” Rodney grumbled. He looked around the camp and added, “Our horses are gone,” as if just noticing.

Evan patted Ben on the shoulder and told him not to worry about it. “Just don’t broadcast my thoughts when you figure out how to read my mind.” The joke only earned him a weak chuckle, but it was enough to get everyone moving again. Before long, the horses had responded to their whistles and trotted into camp, though the cart horse and Rodney’s mare, not being battle-trained, were being led by Thorn, who had their reins in his teeth. John gave Evan a curious look, but Evan only shrugged. It didn’t seem the time for humorous stories.

No one slept well that night. Evan finally rolled out of his blankets when the first tinges of light showed at the horizon. Laura was just rousing the fire into a blaze and setting a kettle of water over hot coals for coffee. Rummaging in the wagon through their dwindling supplies, Evan pulled out the sack of oats and a pot and joined her to make breakfast. The rest were up shortly, and they ate and departed by dawn.

The ridge of mountains in the west, usually Evan’s favorite part of the realm to patrol, had taken on a sinister aspect. They climbed the first foothills at dusk, and he watched Ben carefully as they made camp. There was no repeat of the event that had left them all skittish as they rode that day, and as dark fell, Evan pushed his worry aside. The stars seemed to come out in a rush, barely dulled by the light of their large fire.

Evan felt more at ease surrounded by the heavy stone of the mountains. This was his element, and he understood these solid peaks and ridges in a way he never could the cold metal towers of Atlantis. The way in which the Genii and the Wraith had made them seem threatening was unforgivable. He sunk his magic into the rock and lost himself for a while, until John’s voice told him kindly, “Don’t use up all of your strength.” Evan released his magic with a sigh. John was right.

They reached the river the next day. The Hyppon was swift and fierce here, trapped as it was between high stone walls. Evan grunted at the drop, not overly fond of heights. The stone bridge he pulled from the cliffs reflected that, wide enough for two horses and with a low wall along each edge. The extra effort was worth the security.

Even so, Evan kept to the center when they crossed, the rush of the river rising faintly from below. The wind that had tugged at his cloak the whole morning was absent over the chasm, and he sent a grateful look to John in silent thanks.

“Should I pull it down?” Evan asked when they’d reached the other side. It seemed a shame, but it might give an advantage to Genii scouts or troops.

John considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Leave it. It’s too small to be useful to an army, and the Genii don’t know it’s there. Maybe someday there will be people who can use it.”

Before they continued, they pulled their armor out of the wagon and sorted the pieces, helping each other with laces and clasps. It was the light travel armor that they wore on patrols; not battle-worthy, but enough to deflect an arrow or a club and to turn a sword’s edge away from vital places. They also strapped their swords to their saddles and made sure that their bows were in easy reach. Evan nodded approvingly when Jason strapped the metal crossbow across his back and carefully hooked the strap of a leather satchel over his pommel, adjusting it so that his knees wouldn’t jostle the explosive bolts.

Only Rodney griped through the process, but he did so half-heartedly, darting suspicious glances at every shadow and crevasse. It was odd seeing him in armor, odder still to see him handle a sword. Then Evan remembered he’d been taking lessons from Ronon, preparing exactly for this kind of thing. He could only hope Rodney’s newly learned skills weren’t put to the test.

As they climbed higher and turned their course parallel to the border with Genara, Evan cast his magic as far as he could reach, searching for any anomalies that could tell him where the power station was. His magic felt a little thin; any closer to the border and it would fade like it had never existed. 

Their second day past the river, Evan pulled Thorn up short. There had been something...there. Focusing his effort, he quested toward several objects that didn’t fit in with the surrounding rock. 

Not just several objects, but hundreds, scattered across the top of a flat bluff that overlooked a steep valley. The space was tucked between the cliffs of two nearby peaks, open to the east but blocked from the view of any casual riders who would follow the easier paths on the opposite slopes. “Rodney.” Evan pointed toward where the objects lay, but Rodney just frowned and shook his head. 

“Either they aren’t gathering much power or they’re too far away still,” Rodney replied. He gave Evan a look that asked if he was certain. He was; it was impossible that what he sensed could be part of the landscape.

He spent the rest of the morning trying to work out what they were; certainly they didn’t seem related to the towers that captured wind. Remembering what Atlantis had shown him, Evan thought that they might be connected to the sun. The pieces fell together as they topped the next rise, and though Evan had already guessed what they would see, he couldn’t help but exclaim in wonder at the sight. Hundreds of dark panels reflected the sunlight at them, creating a glare so bright it made his eyes water. 

“Are they mirrors?” Laura shaded her eyes, but still had to turn away after a few moments of examination.

“Not mirrors,” Evan replied. “They aren’t meant to reflect the sun, but soak it up.” He was already sending out a thread of magic to the closest one. Using his senses instead of his eyes, he could feel the jagged edges where the surfaces had been broken. It felt like glass, except that it wasn’t. Not any glass he’d ever encountered.

Evan opened his eyes to find the others all watching him expectantly. Knowing they didn’t need to hear about the crystal lattices and amazing purity of the constructs, he shrugged and simply said, “We need to fix those.” The statement earned him a snort from Rodney, who spurred his mare along the edge of the cliff at their feet toward a gentler slope that would take them to the plateau.

Following at his heels, Evan tried to discern which of the fabricated panels might hold the controls to the station, then realized that Rodney had already found it. The man slid ungracefully off his horse in the center of an open area next to a squat box. Though made of the same material, it had a different shape, and within, Evan could feel more wires and crystals in an array, a twin to the one they’d already repaired.

“Merlin’s teeth,” Rodney griped, “it always has to be something. There’s not enough energy flowing to the controls to see what’s working and what’s not. We need them on and sending power so that we can set the controls correctly.” He waved a hand in Evan’s general direction and said, “Go...fix things.”

“Rodney,” John drawled, sounding like patience was an effort, “At risk of sounding repetitive, wasn’t that the problem last time when you thought that the whole thing might explode?”

“Yes. And that still might happen, but we don’t have a choice.”

Evan walked far enough away that their continuing argument wouldn’t interrupt him. With his back to the sun, he found a place to sit that was clear of rocky debris. Delving into one of the panels, he worked out the details of its shape, structure, and composition, marveling that something so similar to glass could collect and conduct energy from the sun itself. Then he realized that there was glass, too, a thin film of it on the top. It felt strange. Of course--it had been woven with strands of magic to keep from breaking, like the metal Nate and Jason had described in the wind towers. Immense time had proved more powerful than the work; nothing as brittle as glass could remain whole for as long as they’d been gone.

Taking a deep breath, Evan got to work. Glass was not his strongest suit, but he could work it. The pure silica of the panels beneath responded somewhat better, but it was still a few minutes’ effort before the structure regained its smooth, unblemished shape.

Not pausing to consider how many more remained, Evan moved his attention to the next panel, and then the next. After what might have been an hour, someone shoved a cool flask of water into his hands. Evan finished the panel he was working on and opened his eyes to find they’d parked the cart behind him so that he sat in its shade. Finishing off the water, Evan called out an earnest thank you to the group in general, then settled back against a wheel.

“Rodney says you can stop now,” Neil told him some time later. Evan opened his eyes to see the soldier offering him a wrapped loaf of bread. Evan took it and started eating as Neil continued, “There’s enough power flowing to fix the switchy crystal things, and Rodney says you’d better stop and help with those while you still have the strength.”

Evan nodded and rose, grabbing the cart to pull himself up. He was surprised to see the sun slipping behind the peaks on the other side of the valley. “Did I work that long?”

“The whole afternoon,” Neil answered. “Laura and John made some soup from the last of the potatoes and pig. Might be a good idea to eat some real food before you go help Rodney.”

About to nod, Evan froze. Something had moved behind Neil. A shadow, like a figure cloaked in fog. He was reminded of Landslide, the huge mountain cat that had chased him toward David’s meadow. Something that size would be trouble, and up here, certainly no tame pet. “There’s something up here with us,” Evan hissed. “Warn the others.”

Neil didn’t question him, but slid silently around the wagon toward the fire. Wondering if his eyes and the quickly fading light had been playing tricks on him, Evan scanned the rocks and boulders and the few bare shrubs that managed to grow at this height. It was useless; there were too many shadows, and the sun was all but gone. Knowing that there were precious few moments of light left, Evan swung around to the end of the wagon and pulled himself onto the smooth boards. 

It wasn’t much of an improvement; with the added height Evan saw nothing but more shadows, slipping from crevices to boulders and sliding around the bases of the station’s panels. The darkness would tip the balance against them within minutes and he strained to make out the shapes. Wolves? Then the horses, grouped at the far end of camp, whinnied their terror. 

No, the horses would sound an alarm at wolves, not panic. Wraith had found them.

Evan yelled a warning to the others and scrabbled in the back of the wagon for a weapon, but it was no good. He’d foolishly left his sword and crossbow with Thorn. He grabbed a handful of Laura’s explosive crossbow bolts instead and swiveled to meet his attackers. 

A shadow moved, and Evan struck with his magic, straining to pull the cliff face behind it down. Freyr, but he was tired. The rock slid and gained speed, then thudded to the ground; the shadow dissipated, coalescing in another spot to his left. Evan blinked in confusion. It _was_ only a shadow, not a Wraith. He turned on his perch, searching. 

Laura screamed, and a gout of flame burst from her fingers, lighting the area bright as the daylight that had been pulled behind the peaks with the sun moments before. In the orange light, he counted them: at least a dozen, unless some of them were more shadow tricks. Evan leapt from the wagon and rushed toward the chaos. Then Laura’s flame went out, and Evan was momentarily blind. He sent out tendrils of magic ahead of him, making a map of the ground ahead of his feet, and ran.

“The fire, Laura! We need to see!” He prayed her assailant was now a pile of ash as his hip connected with the corner of one of the panels. Stifling a curse, he stumbled against another as the dying embers of their cook fire flared to life. He did curse, then, when he saw the scene before him.

John held a Wraith in shackles of air as he scrambled backward, pushing Rodney behind him. Jason and Neil fought back to back, swords flashing at what might have been Wraith, and might have been shadows. Smoke poured from a charred body on the ground as Laura grimly faced another opponent. Ben waved a bloodied sword uncertainly, its tip dripping with black ichor.

Nate. Where was Nate? Evan searched wildly, and saw the man standing with his hands on the black box. The one that contained the controls that were still broken, while power from the repaired panels tried to pass, and couldn’t. There was no time to worry if it would explode; Evan could only hope that there hadn’t been enough sunlight left to start the process after he’d finished working.

The Wraith _could_ be wounded. They could be killed. Evan rallied his remaining strength, and a spike of rock impaled the creature closest to him as it tried to take Ben from behind. It wailed, an inhuman screech that raised the hairs on Evan’s arms, but it didn’t die. A foot of granite spear through its innards, and it seemed more concerned that it was trapped than injured. Evan’s knees nearly buckled as he sent a burst of magic toward the rock, and it erupted, dozens of blunt-edged pieces tearing their way through its body. It did die then, and Evan retched as the smell reached his nostrils. 

He didn’t think he had enough power left to kill another one with magic. He watched as John hurled his captured Wraith over the cliff. Evan couldn’t guess if the fall would kill it, but it was gone. Another searing blaze from Laura limned her opponent orange, and then white. Evan tried to blink the eerie afterimage from his eyelids, and that was all the time one of the monsters needed to strike.

Evan flew through the air, barely able to gasp a breath from where the Wraith had struck his breastbone. Then he hit the side of the cliff, hard, and bounced into a pile of rubble, feeling his armor buckle where the Wraith had already dented it. Unable to get a lungful of air with his armor pinning him like one of Ronon’s bear hugs, Evan got to all fours just as the Wraith caught up.

There was no magic left in him, though he reached for it desperately. The Wraith grabbed Evan’s hair and pulled him to his feet. Teeth clenching with the pain, Evan flailed blindly, scoring a thin line along the Wraith’s arm with the point of the crossbow bolt still in his hand. The Wraith grinned disdainfully and shook Evan, rattling his ribs inside their metal prison. With a last surge of strength, Evan drove the bolt into the Wraith’s chest.

It looked down and tilted its head as if vaguely surprised that its prey still fought. Then it hissed and casually tossed Evan a half dozen yards toward its companions. He skidded to a stop near the fire, his uncovered hands and knees stinging fiercely.

“Laura,” Evan wheezed. He managed to gasp her name a second time, and she glanced over. She started to step toward him, but Evan gestured weakly toward the approaching Wraith. “Bolt. Light it...” Laura looked, and Evan thanked Freyr when he saw that she understood. 

Eyes glowing maniacally in the firelight, Laura snapped her fingers, and the Wraith exploded in a glorious burst of flame. 

It gave the other Wraith pause, enough time for Evan to roll painfully to his feet. 

The creatures backed up slowly and looked at each other, and suddenly the shadows were back a hundredfold. 

The Lanteans were helpless under the onslaught. The shrieking darkness was like hearing the scream from Ben all over again. Evan stumbled into Laura, and they kept hold of each other, fighting toward the light of the fire behind them.

It lasted for several heartbeats, and just as suddenly was gone. Evan’s mind was clear. He straightened just as one of the creatures reached for Laura, its sickly pale, long fingers wrapping around her throat. Evan was knocked aside a third time, scattering the last of their fire as he rolled through it.

In the dying embers, Evan saw the Wraith stiffen in surprise as a crossbow bolt buried itself in its back. He watched helplessly as it lifted Laura, and her eyes shifted their terrified glance down to the Wraith’s chest and to the bolt that protruded there. Evan had just enough time to throw himself behind one of the panels before Laura set it off.

The sound of not one, but three charges rebounded off the cliffs. Evan twisted until he could see Jason loading another explosive bolt into the chamber of his metal crossbow, but it was unnecessary. He’d hit the three remaining Wraith, and Laura had ignited all of the charges at once. 

Evan scrambled to his feet unsteadily, tearing at the fastenings of his armor. His hands were scraped and burned, his fingers feeling useless, but he tore at them until the metal forms fell free. Finally able to breathe, he called for Laura and scrambled toward the rocks where she’d been thrown. He almost didn’t want to see, but there was a chance she’d survived the blast.

He heard her moan, and then a flare of light directed him to where she lay sprawled against the side of the cliff. Evan fell against the nearest boulder, suddenly lightheaded. Aside from a ring of red finger marks around her neck, she seemed unhurt.

“How--?” He slid to the ground next to her, suddenly feeling all of his bruises, scrapes, and burns.

“Ffffshhhh.” She flapped the hand holding a small ball of fire weakly and pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Fire doesn’t hurt me.”

“Should have known.” Evan wanted to flop over next to her and sleep for a week. Instead he forced himself to his feet and reached down to pull her up, needing to check on the others.

Ben was rebuilding the fire, and Evan gave him a pat on the back as they passed. “Nice work getting rid of those shadows.” Ben accepted the praise with a single nod.

The others were standing near the control box, and Evan felt a wave of relief wash over him as he counted heads. It was short-lived, however, because Rodney grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer the moment he drew near.

“Fix the crystals now.” Rodney pushed him toward the box, ignorant of the ache in Evan’s ribs.

“I’m drained,” Evan protested.

“I fixed the metal parts, but you really need to go over the crystals,” Nate said, sounding wary to be standing that close. “It’s easy, though. It’s set up the same as the last one.”

Heaving a weary sigh, Evan put his hands on the top of the glassy square. From somewhere he pulled a drizzle of magic, enough to fix two cracked crystals and move a few others into the correct position. “Going to sleep, now,” he mumbled when he was done, and lay down right where he was on the rocky ground. He might have heard John give a relieved chuckle, but he was out before he could process it.

Evan awoke wrapped in blankets with the sun shining off of the control box next to him. He yawned and raised a hand to rub his eyes, but it was covered in bandages. Momentarily perplexed, he looked around, and it all came back in a rush of adrenaline. He sat up quickly enough to pull every single battered muscle in his body. “Ow.”

“I take that to mean you feel about as bad as you look,” John said, sitting down across from him. John had a bandage around his left bicep; from the lines of blood seeping through the fabric, Evan guessed he’d been clawed by one of the Wraith in the fight. He looked around, but could see no evidence of the creatures. The others must have tossed the corpses over the cliff while he’d been asleep.

Carefully stretching to see how far he could move his ribs and shoulders, Evan winced, though it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. “A bit sore,” he admitted.

“Yeah, well, you were tossed around like a hoople ball last night.” John handed him a canteen. “Heal all tea. It should help with the worst of it.” He waited while Evan drank deeply, then added, “Your armor was crushed, but you’ll be happy to hear that Jason fixed it this morning. He says he added some of the weaves that they saw used in the wind station towers, and that it won’t give so easily next time.”

“Next time?” Evan sputtered. “I don’t plan on getting close enough for a Wraith to grab me ever again.” He shuddered, knowing just how lucky he’d been. How lucky they’d all been. “John, how are we supposed to fight them? I’m not sure that more magic would make a difference.”

John’s face turned sour, his eyes dark and cheerless. “We don’t have a choice, though, do we?”

~*~

Wincing as the movement pulled at his wounds, Evan heaved himself into the back of the wagon. They’d lost the cart horse as well as Rodney’s mare during the fight with the Wraith. There had been nowhere for the terrified horses to run except over the cliff. At least they had the cart, and Thorn had allowed himself to be harnessed to it with only a little bit of coaxing.

It had taken another two days for Evan to finish the repairs at the station. He’d been nearly depleted after the first stretch of work, and the battle immediately after had worn him through. He’d worked on a few of the panels at a time, amused that only a short while ago he’d been excited to have his skills prove useful. 

“And you thought that your rock magic wasn’t glorious,” John joked. 

Evan lay back in the cart and closed his eyes with a snort. They had a little track to follow for the moment, and enough daylight to make it partway down the mountain. Eventually he’d have to start watching for rough patches again and flatten a path so that the cart could pass, but for now all he wanted was a nap. “Wish we didn’t have to do this in the first place.” He cracked an eye open. “You can shower me with praise after I’ve flattened that mountain full of Wraith.”

“If you can do that, I’ll have a parade in your honor.” John winked at Rodney, settled beside Evan in the wagon. Rodney harumphed, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. Evan settled back and tried to sleep.

It wasn’t long, though, before Rodney was poking him in the shoulder and saying he’d found the first weak spot in the conduit. Evan sat up and stretched. He could feel it far far beneath them, well under the mountains. He could reach it without much effort, but with the added distance, Nate and Jason had to work together to repair the metal threads. Evan was starting to see crystals and conduits in his sleep. Turning to Rodney as he finished, he muttered, “You know, when we were planning this trip, this is just not what I pictured.”

Rodney gave him a lopsided grin. “It could have been worse.”

As they drew closer to Murrow, the landscape became greener, first with pines and beeches, and then true forest. It all seemed so serene, so untouched, that it was hard to imagine that the Genii were planning a war on the other side of the mountains. 

Evan desperately wanted to detour the few miles out of the way to David’s house, but couldn’t think of a way to ask. It would take an hour, perhaps less if he pushed Thorn. A few minutes, just to check that he was safe--surely they could afford the time, even now.

Instead John surprised him by saying, “You passed by here before, didn’t you? I seem to remember mention of a hot spring.” 

The others perked up at that; stiff and sore as Evan was, he doubted they were feeling much better. Evan kneeled in the back of the wagon and peered over the side. He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings the last time, and David had said that his place was difficult to find. “I’m not sure. Maybe five miles that way?”

Thorn shook his head and turned to take a different angle through the woods than where Evan was pointing. The cart bumped off what passed as a road and through the underbrush.

“Right,” John said with a smirk, “follow the horse.” He reined Pegasus to fall in behind the cart.

They reached the meadow where Evan had collapsed, and he searched the skies for Bark. He thought he saw the hawk perched in a tall oak on the far side of the clearing, but couldn’t be sure. It dropped from the branch with a sharp cry and caught the air on its wings, disappearing into the trees.

Thorn followed, and Evan felt a twinge of excitement. He’d been thinking about David since he’d left here. Was it only three weeks ago? He led such a simple life, so different from the bustle of the city and its worries. And he’d made Evan laugh and forget his own, if only for a short time. Evan was smiling broadly by the time he caught a whiff of cook fire.

And then they broke through the trees, and Evan saw an edge of stone wall, and beyond that...nothing.

The house was gone.

For a wild moment Evan thought that it was a trick of David’s defensive magic, but then his gaze fell upon the burned timbers and the pile of broken furniture heaped at the edge of the garden.

“No....” Evan stared, feeling like a hand was wrapping around his throat and making it hard to breathe. “No, no, no....” He lunged off the end of the wagon, yanking free of Rodney’s hand clutching at his sleeve. 

It couldn’t be. David was supposed to be safe. War might take soldiers, he was prepared for that, but that the Genii would take this from him was a desecration, an act that went beyond mere greed or fear. Evan fell to his knees next to what was left of the foundation. The central part of the wood floor was intact; part of a wool rug, singed at the edges, lay rumpled and covered with muddy boot prints. The hatch to the storage cellar and cold spring lay open, untouched by the flames. A pile of debris in the corner might have been shelves before. The rest was ash.

“I don’t see a body,” Laura said kindly behind him. “Maybe--”

“If the Wraith fed first, there wouldn’t have been much left to burn,” Evan replied, more harshly than he’d intended. He felt hollow, like something vital had been torn from inside. “The Genii...the Wraith did this,” he growled. 

Smacking his palms flat to the ground where the front door had once stood, Evan reached into the ground. He poured his magic out, and then pulled as the rock took more and more. He yelled, a broken cry, as the magic roared through him, down, and then deeper. He could _feel_ it like he hadn’t before, streaming in a torrent through his body. It was agony. He lost control of it, and briefly considered just letting go, letting his mind turn to cinders and scatter with the ashes that clung to his skin.

But his rage proved stronger. He pulled again, and if he’d been lifting stone with his physical form, the effort would have snapped tendons and shattered bone. There was one precarious moment of unbalance when his magic was almost gone, but he heaved desperately as the last of it flowed from him and the connection broke, leaving him empty.

Evan panted on all fours, sweat dripping into his eyes and making them sting. Someone said his name, but blood pounded in his ears and it was nothing but a distant echo. His muscles quivered. Shaking, Evan lifted his head to observe what he’d wrought. 

Thirty feet of stone rose like a needle as big around as a man. Water seeped in rivulets down its side to pool in small basins that grew like fungus from a tree, following the lines of vines and ivy that decorated the rock as if carved by a master hand. A line of roses circled the top, the white and pink granite contrasting sharply against the black of the basalt.

Evan tried to rise, but stumbled instead. John caught him under the arms and lifted him to his feet. “I’m so sorry,” John said quietly.

Scrubbing a mix of tears and ash from his eyes, Evan nodded. He’d see this through--fixing the magic, defending Atlantis, defeating the Genii and their hateful Wraith--not only because he knew it needed to be done, but because he’d become the kind of man who could do it. He’d filled his heart with stone, and neither mercy nor compassion would crack it.


	7. Chapter 7

John dished out supper, eying Evan’s memorial and wishing they’d had enough daylight left to move on before making camp. But their path would take them past Murrow, and John had no doubt that they’d find it razed just like this place. Another day wouldn’t matter, and another few miles wouldn’t get the stink of charred wood out of their noses; likely Murrow only smelled worse. Laura said the fire had burned the same day they’d heard the scream on the mountaintop. If there were survivors from the town, they’d be long gone.

Evan accepted a bowl of stew, probably not even noticing that it mostly contained what they had salvaged from the garden. He huddled in his cloak and stared at the fire, speaking to no one. Nate sat close enough to touch on one side, and Jason was sprawled on the other. Whether that comforted Evan, John didn’t know. But they were there.

Poking his head out from the hatch in what was left of the floor, Rodney caught John’s eye and waved. With a glance at Evan, John walked over to see what he’d found.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about provisions,” Rodney said, climbing out to sit with his feet dangling into the opening. “There’s enough down here to last us the rest of the way back to Atlantis, and then some.”

“They didn’t take it?” John asked, and then realized that of course the Wraith would have no interest in human stores. In all likelihood, then, the Genii hadn’t accompanied them. But why send them across the border now? They couldn’t be sure that the Lanteans knew about the Wraith--they were potentially giving up their greatest secret. John gave a mental shrug; if the Genii were crazy enough to wake the Wraith in the first place, he couldn’t expect them to act with any sort of logic he understood. 

“I’ll send Ben over to help load the wagon.” Asking Ben to do so would give John a moment to speak to him out of earshot of the others. When they were far enough, John asked quietly, “Is Evan going to be all right? I’ve never seen him like this.”

Ben shrugged. “I’m surprised even you can’t feel how angry he is. I can read it from over here.” Then he tilted his head in thought, or maybe he was reaching with his magic. “It’s under control, I think. Or at least very focused. He’ll be able to do the work, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

John hated to admit even to himself that it had been partly why he was worried. Evan’s friendship deserved John’s concern in and of itself, but they had a task to complete that might mean the lives of the entire realm. Evan would have to set aside his pain for the sake of them all. And while he hated it, he knew that Evan wouldn’t be the only one to suffer before it was over. He shook his head, thinking of Aiden, whose enthusiasm had earned John’s friendship from the moment they’d met on the training grounds. 

“Evan will be able to work, _if_ he gets his magic back after that stunt,” Rodney didn’t quite whisper quietly enough. John shushed him with a glare, and Rodney hissed, “He’s empty, John. He should be passed out on the ground right now, you know how magic forces you to rest when it’s depleted, whether you have the time for it or not.” Having no reply to that, John could only grimace.

The sound of Laura retching interrupted anything else they might have said. John swung around to see her holding a ceramic jar at arm’s length, coughing as she covered her mouth and nose with her other hand. “It smells like Thor’s ass,” she explained. 

“Fugwort tea.” John squinted toward the fire. Evan was watching them, his face lifeless. “It’s a restorative. Good for healing.” Evan blinked like he was half asleep and added, “We should take it with us.”

“A few other things made it,” Laura said, carefully corking the jar and setting it aside. “I’ll see what I can salvage before it gets dark.”

It was almost a relief when they couldn’t rouse Evan the next morning. John fervently hoped that it meant he was getting his magic back. Nate and Jason bundled him into the back of the wagon, and they hitched Ben’s horse to it when Thorn kept nosing Evan’s blankets and wouldn’t budge. Although it meant that Evan couldn’t repair the casing around the conduits, Rodney assured them that the metal was the vital part of it, and fixing that much would last long enough for their purposes.

When they reached Murrow--what was left of it--they picketed the horses in a nearby pasture and dug through the debris. It had been a fair-sized town, though much of the population lived on outlying farms rather than in the city proper. It was difficult to determine what the buildings had contained, as the timber structures had stood no chance against the fire. Resting her hand on a charred doorframe, Laura confirmed that this fire, too, had taken place that night they were on the mountain, though it seemed clear enough to John that this had been the source of the screams.

Bodies littered the alleyways and streets, though the numbers gave John hope that some had survived. He tried not to think about the possibility that it simply meant that the corpses had burned instead. Jason and Nate grimly fashioned shovels from half-melted pots and tools, and they started digging graves in silence. It would have been a brief moment’s work for Evan, but John was glad he was still asleep--the physical toil seemed more appropriate than using magic for such a bleak task. John did use his magic to move the bodies, though, afraid that they were too brittle to be carried by hand. They were as light as bundles of sticks, dessicated and dry like the mummies John remembered seeing in a museum in Chian long ago.

When they were done, they collected the horses and rode on, hoping to find an intact farmhouse where they could spend the night. After they’d traveled several miles and found nothing but deserted ruins, they camped instead in the lee of a hilltop under a copse of trees. Even the sheep had been slaughtered and left to rot in the sun.

“They’re destroying our food supply,” Rodney commented as they dropped their blankets in a heap for later. “We’ll be bad enough off as it is, but if the Genii keep this up, we’ll never survive a siege.”

“Yeah, I’d thought of that,” John answered with a scowl. “I can’t think of another reason to start attacking us now and giving us warning.”

The two walked back to the wagon, discussing whether to leave Evan in the back or make a pallet for him on the ground, when the man sat up with a moan. “Ungh, how long was I out?” he said, voice sounding hoarse.

“Last night and all of today,” John said, reaching into the back of the wagon to help him down.

“Murrow?” Evan didn’t look hopeful, and at John’s shake of his head, merely nodded like the news was expected. 

“How are you feeling?” Evan looked okay, John thought, but his eyes were bruised and his face sallow. They’d put salve on his wounds and dosed him with some of the awful smelling fugwort tea that morning; the blisters on his hands had broken open, and the scrapes on his knees had been nearly as bad.

Evan gingerly made a fist and looked surprised at the lack of pain. He reached down and scooped up a handful of dirt, swirling it magically into a tiny dervish in his palm. John breathed a sigh of relief, but Evan said, “Don’t expect much more than that from me just now.”

“You didn’t miss much work today, anyway,” John told him as Rodney put his arm under Evan’s shoulders from the other side. Together they helped him toward the fire and to settle on the ground. He didn’t explain what they’d done instead; Evan knew full well what the loss of Murrow had entailed without having to hear the details.

They had put together a meal of the foods from David’s cellar--mostly soft cheeses and fruit, which they spread on toasted slices of bread. Before he curled up with Rodney in their blankets, John wove air around the rest of the provisions, not having thought to do it until now with all that had been going on. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Evan asleep when he returned, curled between Nate and Jason in an untidy nest of blankets. It was good, he thought, that Evan wouldn’t be alone.

John pleaded with the ancestors that the rest of the journey back to Atlantis be uneventful, but they came across another razed village the next morning, and spent another day burying the dead. Haven, it had been called. Though much of Evan’s magic had returned, they dug the graves by hand in unspoken agreement. 

Two days out from the city, when they neared the edge of the forest that began on the southern banks of the Hyppon river and curved in a wide arc to the east, Ben pulled John aside and told him that he sensed someone watching them from the trees. “I don’t think he means us harm, but he’s definitely wary.”

Passing the news to the others, John saw a look of hope cross Evan’s features before it was buried under a mask of stone. It probably was a refugee, though John couldn’t guess why he hadn’t finished the trek to Atlantis. Thinking he might be injured, John steered Pegasus in the direction Ben pointed. 

“Hello?” John called into the trees when the man didn’t reveal himself. “Do you need help?”

“John?” The rough call came from behind an elm, and before John could place the voice, Aiden stepped out into the open.

John spurred Pegasus forward to meet him, but stopped short when he saw the other man more clearly. Aiden looked as thin as John would have expected from someone living off the land for more than a month, but something about the way he stood was off. When Aiden stepped into a patch of sunlight, John saw that his face was misshapen, one eye huge and black like an insect’s.

“Aiden! Are you--what happened?” John slid from the saddle but stood still when the other man took a step backwards. “We thought you’d been killed by the Wraith.”

“Almost got me, yeah.” Aiden gave an oddly twisted grin, poised on the balls of his feet as though about to flee. “The thing grabbed me, but I healed and healed and healed myself while it tried to feed. Lasted a long time. But I managed to work my knife free and finally kill it.”

Stepping to John’s side, Evan whispered, “We barely had any magic that close to the borders. Doesn’t look like it worked too well.” To Aiden he said, “I’m glad you made it.”

Aiden looked at him disdainfully and replied, “No thanks to you.” Then the smile was back, sudden and unnerving. “But hey, like you said--I made it.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. It grabbed you so fast, and you were gone before I could even slow down.” Even held his hands out placatingly. It was unfair, John thought, to blame Evan. He knew firsthand what the Wraith were like. 

“Come back to the city,” John said. “Let Carson look at you.”

“No!” The force in Aiden’s refusal made John take a step back and he bumped into Pegasus, who shook his head and shifted sideways. John saw a quiver run down his neck. The horse was scared. Of Aiden? “I healed myself. Didn’t I say that?”

“I didn’t mean you needed help,” John soothed, thinking quickly. “But you’re the only person we know of who has survived a Wraith feeding. Maybe Carson could look at what happened to you and...” He trailed off, unsure of where he was going with that himself. The Wraith didn’t leave anything behind to heal. “Maybe we could at least learn how the feeding works.”

Aiden’s head nodded like it was on strings. “Okay. Sure.” He took a step backward, though, and John tensed, not quite prepared to take the soldier back by force. As Aiden turned to run, the ground lifted beneath him and caught his feet, slamming him to the ground. He lay unmoving, though a low moan escaped his lips. 

“Evan!” John turned to his companion with a disapproving frown. “Was that really necessary?”

“I didn’t hurt him,” Evan said, walking toward Aiden’s prone form. “And he’s going to see Carson anyway, right?”

John huffed in irritation. That move had been cold, especially coming from his usually soft-hearted Commander. Perhaps it had been for the best, though. With Ben’s help, they got Aiden into the back of the wagon. He seemed unhurt, merely stunned. Feeling a twinge of guilt, John wove a net of air over him to keep him in place. Maybe Carson could undo whatever had happened.

When the city came into view through the treetops, John grinned in utter relief. Had he really been so eager to get away from its sometimes claustrophobic towers? It didn’t seem so now; the spires, reflecting the midday sun, were the most welcoming thing he’d ever seen.

John stopped short of the western gate. Rodney glanced at him with curiosity from the back of the placid plow horse they’d found wandering, obviously impatient to be home. “The five gates around the city match where the power conduits are,” John explained. “I didn’t realize that before.”

Rodney shrugged as if to imply that everything about their ancestors was an enigma. “Right now, I don’t care. I haven’t had coffee in almost a week.”

Trust Rodney to have his own priorities. “We need to get Aiden settled with Carson,” John said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the cart and their not-quite prisoner. Aiden had begged and cajoled to be released, and had almost escaped twice when John had relented. 

Before he could nudge Pegasus forward, Evan said, “We should get going on the other repairs as soon as possible. It should be safe to head south. You and Rodney can fix the station that’s part of Atlantis in the meantime; if the other station is the same as the two we’ve already repaired, I think we can manage.” He looked up at the towers, and added, “If you need someone to work metal, find my father. He’d be thrilled to have something to do.”

“You need to rest,” John argued. “We can afford a couple of days, surely?”

“How many other towns will the Wraith burn to the ground in the meantime?” Evan dismounted, dropping Thorn’s reins, and walked to the wagon. He unhitched Ben’s horse as he spoke, then peeked into the wagon, looking over the supplies. “We’ll switch over Rodney’s horse. It can pull a wagon as well as a plow. And we still have plenty of food.” 

Nate and Jason shifted uncomfortably in their saddles, but made no protest. No doubt they would have preferred a few days of quiet after being gone from home so long. Laura gave the city one wistful glance, then dismounted to help Evan pull Aiden from where he was wedged between the side of the wagon and their food baskets. Aiden glared silently, but didn’t try to pull away. Not that he’d get far with the loose shackles of air that still bound his wrists and ankles. Ben and Neil sighed almost in unison and Ben hopped down after Aiden, walking to his horse.

Evan looked momentarily surprised, then said gruffly, “You don’t all have to come.”

“Can’t be sure there aren’t more Wraith out there,” Laura said with a grin, flexing her hands as if to remind him that she was their best weapon.

“You need me, too,” Ben said, hoisting himself into the saddle. “There might be Genii as well as Wraith, and at least I can get rid of those Freyr cursed shadows.”

“And I can...” Neil trailed off and gave a sheepish shrug. “Uh, make their clothes damp and uncomfortable.”

“No no no,” Rodney said, snapping his fingers. “You,” he pointed at Neil, “should stay. If we get the lightning rods working, you might be able to--” he paused and let his finger drop. “Can you make a lightning storm?”

Neil gave that a moment’s consideration, then answered carefully, “It’s been wanting to rain. I think the broken system has been pulling energy from both the land and the air. If you can stop it from doing that, all I need to do is give things a little nudge and we’ll have the storm of the decade.”

“Great,” Laura muttered. “Good thing we’ve been lugging tents around the whole time.”

Though John knew they displayed forced indifference to continuing on without a break, he feared that Evan was right. Their own comfort had to be less important for a good while to come. 

With both Aiden and Rodney having to walk the last distance, John dismounted to join them. He clasped Evan’s arm and said, “Ancestors keep you safe.” 

A pained look crossed over Evan’s features before he gave John a small smile. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” With that he mounted Thorn and turned south, skirting the small patch of farmland that bordered the trees. The others followed, only Laura turning to give them a last wave.

“They could have at least gone through the city to the south gate,” Rodney said incredulously, “and picked up fresh bread and coffee along the way.” John snorted, though he personally agreed.

“Do you guys really think you can make our magic better?” Aiden looked like himself for the first time in days. They hadn’t explained what they were doing, but he must have picked up enough from their chatter to guess.

“We hope to return it to how our ancestors meant for it to be,” John told him, releasing the weaves of air from around Aiden’s ankles. He tugged on the man’s arm to get him moving, but gently, hoping whatever madness had possessed him was gone, at least for the moment. Carson would fix him. He would.

But Carson wasn’t in the hospital ward where he spent most of his time. They found the healer Jennifer there instead, checking jars and bandages and packing supplies into baskets. “He’s with the refugees from Murrow,” she told them.

John’s heart leapt. “So there were survivors.”

“A couple dozen,” Jennifer said. “Ones who hid in cellars or ran into the woods when...” she trailed off, seeing Aiden standing behind John for the first time. “Oh.” She made an abortive gesture toward him, then looked to John. “What happened?”

“He survived a Wraith attack,” John said, carefully wording his reply. “Aiden has some healing ability and was able to negate whatever it is that they do.” Mostly, he added silently.

“Well, let’s get you checked out,” Jennifer said softly, holding her hands out as she approached. John remembered she’d been raised on a farm and had been more used to healing animals than people when she’d arrived in Atlantis. But her demeanor seemed to keep Aiden calm, and she got him onto a cot with little fuss. 

Jennifer put her hands on Aiden’s shoulders as if to encourage him to lie down, and Aiden sighed, closing his eyes and falling into what John hoped was only sleep. “I hate to do that,” Jennifer confided, “but it will be easier to examine him.”

John wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Aiden alone, magical sleep or no, but he had yet to speak to his advisors, and there were a thousand other things needing his attention. He made sure to warn Jennifer that Aiden might be a little unstable, relating briefly how they’d found him and what he’d been like on the ride.

“How horrible,” she said, glancing at Aiden with pity. John had no doubt that she and Carson would do everything in their power to see him healed. 

That burden lifted, John retreated to his quarters long enough to bathe and change into clothes that didn’t smell like smoke and horses.

His advisors had been told of his return, and he found them waiting in one of the small conference rooms at the center of the tower. Rodney had likewise washed and changed, and in the extra time he’d had while John was in the hospital, had acquired two plates and a small mountain of food, as well as a pitcher of cold beer and a pot of coffee.

With a grateful smile, John helped himself to the food while he told Elizabeth and Stephen everything that had happened on the journey. He finished eating well before he was done with the tale. “You’ve seen the refugees?” John asked after giving them a moment to digest it all.

“We’ve found them all rooms and seen to their injuries,” Elizabeth replied. “It seems the Genii are trying to put us at a disadvantage for a siege.”

“But we have resources they aren’t expecting,” Stephen added with a fond look at Elizabeth. John thought he meant their magic, but the advisor went on to explain that Elizabeth had discovered descriptions of something in the library that translated to either greenhouse or glasshouse, and that Katie Brown as well as every person with plant magic in the city was working to grow enough food to survive the winter. 

“Those big rooms out by the east gate?” John asked, thinking of the huge windowed areas that they’d thought to be parks in their ancestor’s time. They’d held nothing but bare soil when the Lanteans had returned, though during John’s most recent trip through there, he’d seen flowers and trees from both Lantea and Chian growing in tidy rows along graveled paths. 

Elizabeth nodded. “Radek and Peter think that there’s a heating system, but haven’t worked out how to turn it on just yet.”

“They also said that it would take a lot of power,” Stephen added. “I can’t say that I understand everything they’ve been doing in your absence, but they assure me that with the repairs you’re making, power won’t be an issue.” His look invited an explanation, so John told him about the theory that their magic used the same power that ran the city.

“And if we can gather as much power as we’re supposed to have,” Rodney said excitedly, “There are probably a hundred other things about the city that we haven’t discovered yet.”

“One thing at a time,” John told him, squeezing his hand fondly. 

Of course, John had a hard time following his own advice. After meeting briefly with Peter and Radek to bring them up to speed, he and Rodney found Carson finishing up with his last patient of the day, an older woman from the farmland around Murrow. She’d suffered minor burns when the Wraith had set fire to their store of hay and inadvertently ignited the hidden cellar door at the edge of the field. They had been fortunate, she explained, to live within hearing distance of Murrow’s alarm system. 

“When the siren cut off right in the middle--well, it was that more than the alarm itself that told us things were serious.” She looked at John, and he wondered if she saw him as the man who was supposed to make everything right again, or one whose bloodline was responsible for their troubles in the first place. Either way, she looked resolute, if somewhat grim. “I hear there’s work growing things for the winter. This young man said someone could show me to the...greenhouse...as soon as I was done here.”

John smothered a smile at Carson’ reaction to being thought of as a young man, and held out a hand. “We were just heading there ourselves.” He turned to Carson and added, “I’ll be back to check on Aiden later.”

He knew the greenhouses were big, but seeing them laid out in rows of dark, furrowed soil made them seem huge. A dozen workers walked along the lines of young plants just starting to poke through the dirt. John waved Katie over and introduced her to the woman from Murrow. Mary, she said her name was, shaking Katie’s hand firmly. 

John missed most of their conversation, because something about the glass over his head was pulling at him. Since he’d returned to Atlantis, he thought he could almost feel the city in some places, like she was nudging him to notice details. He itched to sit in the control chair, certain that there were things she needed to tell him. 

A poke in the ribs from Rodney made him realize that he’d missed something. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I think our ancestors used to be able to grow enough here to feed the whole city,” Katie repeated. “We can get things to grow out of season, but we haven’t quite figured out how well the plants will fare through the winter.”

With another glance at the ceiling, John answered, “Do what you can, and trust that the ancestors knew what they were doing.” The glass, John realized, was important. And the heating. Impatient to interact with Atlantis, John almost ignored the tug on his sleeve as he turned to leave.

“My husband has a way with animals,” Mary said. “We lost our stock to those Freyr cursed monsters, but there can’t have been enough of them to reach Holden or Woodfall. If they brought their animals here, it would go a long way towards easing our worry about enough food.” She nodded once, then said as if John had been the one detaining her, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go speak with my son.” 

It took John a moment to unravel her meaning. When he did, he turned to Rodney and asked, “Did Stephen or Elizabeth say if they’d sent messengers to the other villages along the border?” When Rodney shrugged, John dragged a hand through his hand and sighed. Another thing he needed to do sooner rather than later. They’d thought they would have time to bring in what little harvest there was before having to worry about an attack, but it seemed the Genii weren’t going to let them.

Well, it was nearly dark; nothing could be done for now. John headed for the nearest of the transporters, Rodney at his side. “Are you going to the chair?” Rodney asked as they approached the doors.

“Nope.” The doors opened silently, and John turned to the simple map of the city displayed on the back wall.

“Oh. Back to the library?” 

“Nope.” John tapped an area of screen, and the doors opened again on another corridor at the top of the central tower just down from his rooms.

“Oh. Well if you want to fix the power station now, we still need to find someone with metal working skills.” Rodney leaned toward a window to look nonetheless.

“That’s not why we’re here,” John said, trying not to grin.

“What could you possibly do in your rooms that’s vital to our survival?” Rodney asked, looking skeptical. 

John placed his arms on Rodney’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. “That.”

“Oh,” Rodney whispered, sounding pleased. 

~*~

In the morning, Rodney swung out of John’s bed at dawn. Rubbing his eyes, he said, “I need coffee.”

Feeling he had a right to be lazy for a few more hours, John gripped his hand. “Coffee will still be there later, Rodney. Stay for a while.”

Rodney huffed in mock-irritation, but relented. “I am going to drink all of the coffee in the city until it’s gone,” he said seriously. 

“You might want to pace yourself if we’re going to be stuck without fresh supplies for who knows how long,” John suggested, nipping playfully at Rodney’s ear. 

“That would give other people a chance to drink it first,” Rodney retaliated.

Sensing that Rodney wouldn’t relax with his mind so distracted, he murmured, “I think I saw them growing some in the greenhouse yesterday. We’ll have plenty.”

“You think so?” Rodney grinned and finally settled back in John’s arms. “Well, I suppose that’s all right, then.”

John felt only slightly guilty when he finally dragged himself out of the tower some time later. Rodney had departed for the library, and it was time John discovered what had been happening with Atlantis in his absence. 

The first difference he noticed was that the chair responded to him more quickly than it had in the past. It was encouraging, though looking at the “reservoir” of magic, or power, or both, John was disappointed to see that it was much the same as when they’d left. He supposed it would take time to fill, and after all, they’d only fixed two of the stations. 

Diving into what he thought of as Atlantis’ mind, John quested for information about its systems, how it used power and where. He was surprised that she answered readily, for he’d asked these questions time and time again with no results he could decipher. There seemed to be fewer fluctuations, but that allowed him to see the dispersal of power now like he never had before. It looked as though some of the areas on the map in his head weren’t being used. Certainly some of the systems weren’t. 

He thought of the nudges Atlantis had been giving him since he returned. Focusing on the greenhouse first, he saw that power to that area had been deemed unnecessary, and shut off. At least, that was his best interpretation of the information. He politely asked Atlantis to restore heating to the area, and she seemed to acquiesce, adding, _initiate high-intensity supplemental inflorescence?_ John blinked. “Uh. Yes?” He repeated the words mentally, hoping that it was the correct answer.

The only other thing he could make any sense of was a request to “activate user interfaces.” He debated that one for long moments before also replying in the affirmative. Not entirely sure what he’d accomplished, John finally stood and stretched, then went to find Rodney to figure out what they needed to do to fix Atlantis’ lightning gathering station.

Rodney was in the library with Peter and Radek, giving them the details about what they had seen and done while they were away. He was recounting the fight with the Wraith when John walked in. Rodney stumbled over a few parts he hadn’t witnessed, distracted as he’d been with the power station’s control mechanism. Those parts John recounted briefly: Ben counteracting the Wraith’s shadows, Laura’s near-miss, and the manner in which she and Jason had destroyed the last of the creatures.

That sent them into a flurry of discussion over whether the Wraith had magic, and how it might differ from their own. John listened patiently until they started using terms he didn’t understand, and then pulled Rodney from the room under protest. “We have the station here to fix, remember?”

“And did you find someone with metal working skills yet?” Rodney asked, straightening his shirt from where John had wrinkled it. 

John rubbed the back of his neck and admitted, “Not exactly.” He should have, he knew, at least before dragging Rodney from his work, but the city had implanted him with an urgency that was difficult to ignore.

“Either you did or you didn’t,” Rodney replied. John steered them toward the soldiers’ mess, thinking that the application of more coffee would soothe Rodney.

“Evan said his father would help.” Before Rodney could add a huffed protest to his eye roll, John steered him to the always-warm urn of coffee in the corner.

Rodney eyed it suspiciously. “How long has this been here?”

“They make a fresh batch every couple of hours,” John answered, just short of an eye roll himself. 

“No, I mean this,” he gestured to the coffee, “and this,” then flung his arms wide to indicate, John assumed, the entire mess hall.

“You’ve never been here?” John paused in the middle of reaching for two glazed mugs. “Seriously?” But why would he have been? It was part of the soldier’s barracks, and people who were not part of the military rarely showed their faces.

Rodney snatched one of the mugs from the counter and filled it. Taking a deep breath of the aroma, he muttered, “Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. Do you know how hard it is to get the tower kitchen to make me coffee in the middle of the day?”

“I can imagine,” John said, picturing the staff’s faces whenever he walked in with Rodney. “So anyway,” he said to change the subject as he filled his own mug, “We need to find either Evan’s father or someone else who can work metal. Let’s check the armory.”

They wound their way to a table through the crowd of soldiers, most of whom saluted John or acknowledged his presence in some way, stepping deferentially out of their path. John returned the gestures with polite nods and smiles, though he knew only a fraction of the faces.

“No wonder you have such a big head,” Rodney quipped as they sat down. 

“I do not--” John started to protest before he noticed the way the corners of Rodney’s mouth were turning up. “Very funny,” he said instead. Rodney drank a second cup of coffee before John had finished his first, and had no objections to accompanying John to the armory. John hoped that the greenhouse really was growing the beans, since there wasn’t much else he could bribe the man with. Well, nothing that would get the work done faster.

The armory was bustling; anyone with the slightest skill with metal was employing it in the making of weapons. He almost boggled at the number of spears, swords, and crossbow bolts piled in storage bins along the walls. It was hot in the confined space, though all the windows were open to the outside air. Spotting a face he recognized, John wove through the central aisle until Amelia could hear him over the din of voices. The young soldier seemed to be directing the work as much as anyone.

He explained what they needed, but didn’t bother with the why. Ameila tucked a sweaty strand of her long hair behind her ear, then pointed out the people in the room she considered the most suitable. John huffed a laugh when he saw another face he knew. 

Walking to where an older man was fastening metal plates for armor, John clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Couldn’t stay retired, could you?”

The man looked up and his eyes crinkled in a smile identical to Evan’s. “John! Good to see you, son.” John introduced Rodney, then grinned and said, “And this is Thomas Lorne.”

“Lorne? As in Evan?” Rodney narrowed his eyes and peered at Thomas closely. “You look just like him.”

“Ancestors, don’t ever say that in his presence,” Thomas laughed. He ran a hand through his graying hair as if for emphasis. “Is he back in the city, then?”

John shook his head, ending the gesture with a tilt toward the door. Once in the hallway and free of the noise, he explained, “Evan’s still out doing some repair work. We need to fix a couple things in the city, too, and he said you’d be willing to help.”

“Evan told me about the Wraith,” Thomas said gravely, “and our magic, too. Any is more than I had before, but I’ve grown accustomed to it over the years, and I think I’d rather keep it.”

“Good,” Rodney said, and without preamble delved right into how the system and the stations worked, going into such detail that John saw Thomas’ eyes glaze over. “And the crystals here, those should be fine because they would have been under the shield all these years. We just need you to tweak some wiring.”

Thomas harumphed and shook his head. “So you need me to fix some lightning rods,” he summarized. “Let’s get to it.”

They split up long enough for John to find Neil. He took his time, knowing that Rodney and Thomas were busy visiting scattered towers around the city and fixing the rods attached to those. Neil’s weather working skill would be put to use after they were all finished, and John had promised to meet Rodney and Thomas at the top of the tallest tower. After asking in the soldiers’ barracks and detouring again through the mess, John found Neil idly watching a sparring match on the training field. The man took one look at John’s face and broke into a wide smile. “Is it being fixed?” he asked excitedly, hopping from the fence and trotting over. 

“As we speak,” John replied, glancing up toward the towers. They headed inside, and in a matter of minutes stepped out of the transporter and through the glass doors adjacent to John’s rooms, where Rodney leaned against the balcony, watching Thomas work. 

John looked straight up the side of the tower, where the top of the spire faded against the blue sky. “Did you get the rest?” This was the last lightning rod that they knew of, and the tallest. Any storm would likely find this one first.

“Yes. It turned out to be a simple matter of re-attaching some couplings that had burst when power stopped getting through. Probably a safety feature.” Rodney poked Neil, who had leaned out so far over the railing that John was afraid he might topple over. “Should you be doing that already?” 

Rodney must have felt Neil start working the weather. John felt a shiver of anticipation, both for the rain that they hadn’t seen in months and for the increase in power that the station would provide. “It’ll take some time to whip up a good storm,” Neil replied calmly. 

Watching as the sky started to turn an ugly gray, John stepped back toward the door and asked, “How much time, exactly?”

“Couldn’t say for sure,” Neil replied. “It’s been trying to rain for weeks. The moisture is there, and the wind and temperature differential, but all the energy’s been sucked out of it.” He frowned at the clouds, now building in huge thunderheads above them. “Of course, I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. 

“Storm of the decade, you said.” John took another step toward the door, reaching for Rodney.

Thomas opened his eyes then and stretched, wincing as his back popped. He caught sight of the sky, looking startled at the sudden change. “Maybe we should go inside.”

“That’s, uh, probably a good idea,” Neil agreed heartily, scooting around John to duck back into the hallway.

“It would have been nice,” John said as he hustled Rodney and Thomas ahead of him and thought of all of the soldiers on the practice field, “if we’d been able to give people some warn--”

He was drowned out by a massive lightning strike that raised the hair on his arms and left his ears ringing. “--ing,” he finished weakly. Shoving the doors closed as the first heavy raindrops hit the glass, he turned to the others and burst out laughing. _Rain._

He must have said that out loud, because Rodney added, “And power.”

Glancing back out through the glass doors, John saw that the storm spread as far as he could see.

“I feel kind of bad that Evan and the others are stuck out in this,” Neil blurted, glancing guiltily at Evan’s father. “I didn’t realize it would be so powerful. I think it’s going to rain for about a week.”

Thomas gave a very familiar smirk in response. “Don’t worry, son,” he said, clapping Neil on the shoulder. “It builds character.”


	8. Chapter 8

Evan pushed the group long past the time the ache in his ribs begged him to stop. Maybe it would have been wise to visit a healer before he’d continued, but the lingering pain was almost a welcome goad to press forward. When he noticed Jason helping Nate back to his horse after they’d stopped for yet another repair, Evan relented and suggested they make camp.

They were still under the cover of the trees, and though normally Evan would be glad for the concealment, the shadows cast by their fire jumped eerily and the wildlife seemed to make as much noise as a marching army. He’d never felt this jumpy before. They set up a watch schedule standard to a five man patrol and ate a cheerless supper. Evan knew his mood was dampening their spirits, but there was nothing he could do about that--nothing but continue on until the Genii and the Wraith were destroyed.

They were packing the remains of their lunch the next day when Evan noticed the sudden appearance of storm clouds. They didn’t build in the west where the mountains dammed up cool air and sent it upwards, as was most often the case with late summer storms. These looked like a giant paintbrush was dabbing black onto a canvas of sky. John and Rodney must have fixed the station meant to gather lightning, and Neil had nudged the weather pattern closer to how it should be this time of year. Of course, from the look of things, this storm was going to make up for months of drought all at once.

He was glad that they were on the flat plains south of the city rather than still in the mountains. There wasn’t much chance of a flood here, though he’d hoped that the patch of swamp farther south would be dry for their passage. Little chance of that now.

There wasn’t much they could do other than wrap the waterproofed canvas of the tents over them and hunch low every time a lightning strike split the landscape. Despite their discomfort, the rain was welcome, though Evan feared it was too late for the grain that spread in broad fields in this part of the country. Having come this way before, he knew it should have reached his stirrups by this time of year, but it was stunted in most places, and bare soil showed around the edges.

~*~

The first morning after the storm started, Evan lay in his blankets staring at the canvas wall of the tent. Something felt odd. He strained his hearing, feeling like his senses had been somehow sharpened. All he heard was the repetitive thrum of rain on the tent, but behind it was a low hum, just out of earshot. He sat up abruptly, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t hearing it with his ears, but with his magic. The power station worked. 

He cracked the first smile in days and reached out with this new sense. Three of six stations completed; three to go. It was as though the very soil spoke to him, but he couldn’t yet understand what it said. Try as he might, it was just beyond his reach. But that reach was farther than it ever had been before. Shoving the new sense to the back of his mind where it wouldn’t distract him, he rolled his shoulders and climbed out of the tent. The others were just beginning to do the same, and he could tell by their faces that they noticed the difference. Despite the rain, breakfast was a more cheerful event than their other meals had been.

As they traveled, Evan detoured the group through any settlement large enough to be seen from the road. The Wraith attacks had been haphazard; one village might be burned to the ground, and the next not even aware that their neighbors had been struck. They gave warning, and they buried the dead. The former was hardly better than the latter, seeing people’s faces when they realized they would have to leave their livelihoods behind. Though it slowed their progress, Evan counted every life they kept from the Wraith a victory, while every grave dug hardened his resolve.

It was on their second day trudging through the rain that they encountered the Genii. Ben felt them clearly a few miles distant, a small group intent on staying hidden. Between Ben’s ability and the continual downpour that hid them like a curtain, sneaking up on the soldiers was almost effortless. Four Genii, perhaps a group of scouts for the Wraith. They were camped in a small copse of trees a few miles from the road, far enough from the nearest village to avoid being seen by the errant farmer. At least the rain kept them from setting any fires, Evan thought grimly. Perhaps they were waiting for it to end.

They left the horses and wagon in a sheltered hollow and continued on foot, Nate and Jason circling south while Ben and Laura slipped through the trees to the north. The sound of the rain drowned out Evan’s approach, and he was able to get close enough to see them clearly. The soldiers, in their beige and gray uniforms, sat around a stuttering fire. Evan smiled at their miserable faces, glad that they’d not been prepared for the storm.

With his more delicate crossbow wrapped and stored against the weather, Evan pulled a dry bowstring from his pocket and hooked it to the ends of his recurve bow, one of the spares he’d grabbed from the wagon. They would take no prisoners to hamper their travel or cause them to split the group. Nothing these soldiers could tell him would change the Lantean’s course of action. 

Counting under his breath, Evan waited until he was sure the others were in position. He shifted to get an open shot, rising above the patch of brambles he’d chosen for cover, and drew an arrow to his cheek. The first soldier died by his hand as Evan’s arrow seemed to blossom from the man’s chest. The others acted on his signal, and a second soldier died as either Nate or Jason’s arrow hit its mark. 

Only then did the Genii react, too surprised even to defend themselves. One dove for meager cover, though the other stood and looked around wildly. Evan nocked another arrow, preparing to take the shot, when the soldier’s words reached him. 

“We are not enemies! Please, we come with a warning!” She swung in Evan’s direction, and under the blonde hair plastered to her scalp was a face Evan knew. Sora Tyrus.

“Stop!” Evan bellowed as loudly as he could. Knowing the others couldn’t hear through the downpour, he scrambled forward just as another arrow streaked from a space in the trees on his right. Without thinking, Evan flung a square foot of mud into the air, and the arrow passed through the heavy mess and thudded into the fallen branch at Sora’s feet.

Evan stepped into the little clearing and raised his hands. A moment later the four members of his group stepped into the open, puzzled faces seeking an answer.

“She’s our contact with the Genii,” he said simply. Turning to Sora, he said, “Explain what you’re doing here. Tell us why you shouldn’t join your companions.” He didn’t need to gesture to the dead men; her eyes flickered over to them as if of their own accord.

The other surviving Genii soldier scrabbled to his feet and shot her a worried look. Sora ignored him and said, “Kolya no longer controls the Wraith.”

Evan nodded. There was more, he knew, but it could wait. “Nate, Jason--go back for the horses and our supplies. Laura, could you see if you can get a proper fire going, please.” Ben he gestured to stay with him, hoping the man could tell him if Sora told any lies. They scattered obediently, and Evan stalked across the muddy ground to kneel in front of the fallen soldiers. Both were dead. Though they hardly deserved it, he pressed his fingers to the waterlogged soil and the ground swallowed them whole. He pushed them deep, wishing he could shove them so far into the crust that they incinerated from the heat.

He swiveled and crossed his legs, settling between the patches of damp dirt above the bodies that gave little evidence that they were graves. Sora gulped, visibly shaken. They’d likely never seen magic used before, meeting as they always had across the border in Genara. Good. Let them get an idea of the power her people faced.

Breathing slowly, Evan calmed himself. Sora wasn’t the enemy. He gave a nod to acknowledge her bravery when she passed by Laura without a hitch in her step just as the fire flared higher than her head. Apparently Laura felt a show of power was in order, as well.

Sora sank to her knees, wringing her hands. She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to Evan’s. “This is Idos. His father was one of Commander Kolya’s personal guard, and was one of the first to fall when the Wraith turned on our army.” She bared her teeth and nearly spat, “Kolya thought he could _bargain_ with the Wraith, that they would accede to his demands like spoiled children offered a cake while the table was already littered with sweets.”

For just a moment, Evan felt a pang of pity. Then he buried it as thoroughly as he’d buried the dead men. “They’ve started attacking our people.”

“Yes,” Sora admitted, shoulders slumping. “They do not want war. To them, war is like letting food spoil in the field. Ladon thinks that they are trying to drive your people to gather together in the city, easier than chasing down scattered towns across the landscape. I believe that’s the only reason any of our people have survived--the Wraith are more interested in Atlantis, now.”

That made sense, and it explained why the attacks in Lantea had seemed so random. Evan focused on the other part of her statement and asked, “Ladon?”

A flash of hope crossed her features for the first time. “Ladon Radim. He wishes to end this, and to see peace between our people.”

“Your people,” Laura snorted, “could have had peace long ago, but they laid siege to our city instead.”

“And I was still suckling my mother’s milk when that happened!” Sora clenched her fist, teeth bared in a grimace. “I was not even old enough to understand the loss when my father did not return.”

“We do not want this,” Idos added. “We grew up cowering in fear, waiting and waiting for the Wraith to awaken because of your people’s return, as our elders insisted would happen. But it did not happen. It was Kolya’s insanity that doomed us instead.”

Evan leaned back and sucked a breath through his teeth. “Is there civil war, then? Does Ladon command a force of his own?”

“He does, but there is not,” Idos replied. “Kolya still thinks him loyal. Ladon’s regiment is supposed to strike from the south while Kolya attacks from the west. What Ladon plans to have happen instead,” he continued with a wry smile, “is that Kolya and his men attack an empty city. With none of your people to feed on, the Wraith will in turn wipe them out while he returns to Genara with his men to take his place as our leader.”

“You want us to move our entire population?” Evan asked incredulously. “To where?”

“You have many allies,” Sora said. “The Athosians, and the Satedans. It need not be for long.” She paused. “This is the reason Ladon sent us, to tell Prince John that you must abandon Atlantis if you are to have any hope of surviving.”

It sounded, Evan thought, very believable. He threw a quick glance at Ben, who shrugged. Whether he meant he could sense no deception, or only that he couldn’t sense anything at all, Evan wasn’t sure. 

If they abandoned Atlantis, what was to keep the Genii from occupying their city? It was possible that this had been a ploy from the very moment that Sora had told him about the Wraith. Maybe they’d only awakened a few, enough to give credit to their story, and expected to claim their prize without a fight. 

Possible, he reasoned, but not probable. And not his decision to make. “There might be a way without having to evacuate,” he said, as much for his own companions’ benefit as for Sora’s. They wouldn’t have heard, not being part of the conference that began this. “We have a shield. If we can close off the city so that the Wraith can’t get to our people--” he paused to think. Peter had been sure there was a shield. How much power would it take to raise it?

“Why didn’t you do that last time?” Sora asked.

“We didn’t have magic before,” Evan said, wondering what the Genii history books said of the siege. “And we might not have enough right now, but we’re close.”

“Then the plan is doomed to failure,” Idos told him. “The Wraith have gone to the mountains to awaken the rest of their kin, and Kolya wishes to strike ahead of them.”

“It’s happening _now_?” Evan asked in alarm. 

“Kolya has no choice but to move forward. He would rather send a thousand men to their deaths at the gates of Atlantis than abandon the war he has planned for twenty years.” Sora’s mouth twisted wryly. “He has said that If he does not destroy you, the Wraith that follow will. I’m not sure he cares which.”

Evan stared at Sora, wishing she didn’t look so earnest, that he could tell himself it wasn’t true. “How long until the Wraith attack? Do you have any idea?”

She shrugged. “One of them was captured and tortured. It said nothing useful, merely boasted of their numbers. It did say that their scouts in Lantea would continue to burn settlements until they had driven your people to cower in fear in the city. That was the closest to a plan that it spoke of.”

Evan’s mind worked furiously. Would the power they’d started to gather now be enough to raise the shield? His gut told him it wasn’t. In which case, it was even more important that they reach the remaining stations. And yet, the Wraith were probably watching the roads to Atlantis. If he sent Sora and Idos to continue alone, the Wraith would wonder what business two Genii had in the city. They would never make it.

He shivered, wondering if the Wraith had watched them pass. It was a good thing that they’d detoured through the villages; the Wraith would want them doing that, thinking them just another group of messengers.

Sora’s warning, or the power stations. Which was more important? He mulled that question through the dinner that they ate huddled under the tarps. Sora and Idos raised the extra tent that had been packed for John and Rodney, begging leave to dry out and rest. Evan had no objections, but neither did they have his whole trust. Telling the others to take a much needed break, he sat guard through the night, not even noticing when rain puddled around him and left him sitting in an inch of mud.

By the time the sky had lightened, Evan had made his decision. Wiping the mud from his pants as best he could, he roused the camp. “We’re taking Sora and Idos back to the city. Their information has to reach John.” He eyed Nate and Jason, wondering how they would receive his next words. “I need the both of you to continue toward the station. It’s not the best situation, but you ought to be able to repair the metal part of the conduit. Rodney said it would be enough, and we have to hope he’s right. I should catch up before you reach the coast.”

“The cart will only slow us down,” Jason replied without pausing. “We’ll pack our saddlebags instead.” Nate nodded his agreement. 

Evan stepped close enough to place a hand on each of their shoulders. “Thank you,” he said. “If the Wraith think you’re only warning outlying towns, I don’t think they’ll bother you. Keep to the road if you can and warn anyone you see, but don’t make it a priority--just enough to fool the Wraith.” Dropping his hands to clasp theirs briefly, he added, “Stay safe. I’ll see you in about a week.”

~*~

Though they’d been riding south for five days, they hadn’t traveled far, unable to leave the dead along the way unburied. Still, those deaths were what had brought them to cross paths with the Genii, and Evan consoled himself that those men and women had been more than fodder for the Wraith if it meant others would survive because of it. They abandoned the cart and set the horse free to fend for itself, and made it back to Atlantis in less than two. The Wraith, if there were any, didn’t bother them. The rain stopped during the last mile, leaving them to enter the gate damp and crusted with mud. Evan hustled Sora and Idos through the city and to the central tower, shooing Laura and Ben toward their rooms. He gave the Genii no time to gape, though they swiveled their necks in every direction as they walked. He found Radek first and sent for John, and for a hot meal to be brought to the chamber where they usually met. Time enough to bathe and change later.

“Evan,” John called as he entered the room. “You can’t have finished al--” the words died in his throat as he caught sight of the two Genii soldiers.

“Sora Tyrus and Idos...” Evan shrugged, not knowing the man’s last name. “Of the Genii. You know about Sora, of course.” John nodded dumbly. “John Sheppard,” Evan said, turning to the other two. He added, “And Rodney McKay,” when the man strode in a moment later.

Not wanting to give Rodney the opportunity to pelt him with questions, Evan told them what had transpired, leaving the details for Sora. Those she gave readily, adding a few pieces that she hadn’t mentioned before. Or, Evan thought wryly, that she’d made up since they’d found her. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t trust them completely. 

Thankfully John came to the same conclusion he had. “If Kolya wants Atlantis, we’d practically be handing it over.” He waved away Sora’s objections and turned to pace. 

“We’ll have the shield,” Rodney said. Evan thought that there was more to that statement that he declined to say in front of Sora and her companion.

“Yes, we will,” John agreed, throwing Evan a look he couldn’t read. John paced some more while they ate and Rodney watched them all silently. Finally he stopped across from Sora and planted his hands on the table. “I want to believe that you have no reason to deceive us,” he said with a shrug. “And since we’re not going to leave Atlantis, you gain no advantage by lying.” He paused as if to give Sora a chance to argue or change tactics, and when she remained silent, he nodded as though he’d decided to accept her story at face value.

“You understand that we can’t let you return,” John added, a hard edge to his voice. 

Sora nodded. “We expected as much.”

“Fine,” John said. “Neil will show you to a room where you can stay. The city’s filling up with refugees from the countryside, but I have a particular one in mind. It’s only accessible by transporter, so if you want to escape, your only option will be to leap from a balcony.” With a nasty grin he added, “The drop’s about a thousand feet, of course, so I wouldn’t try it.” His whistle brought Neil trotting into the room a moment later, and Evan guessed the soldier had been stationed in the hallway. 

John explained what he needed to Neil, then ruined his callous facade by adding, “Get a change of clothes for them from Chuck, and show them how the communications array in the room works in case they need anything.”

Sora and Idos followed Neil meekly, showing every sign that they intended to cooperate.

“That was a stroke of luck coming across them,” John said to Evan. “If the Wraith had kept them from delivering their news...”

“It was all Ben’s doing, not luck,” Evan replied. “Our magic’s getting stronger.”

“It is,” Rodney agreed. “But it’s still not enough to raise the shield. I’ve been running diagnostics from the chair and the power’s only at about twenty percent capacity.”

Evan paused with his fork partway to his mouth. Strange, to be speaking of what they called magic in such a manner. “Only twenty? Why not fifty? We’ve fixed half of the stations.”

“Time.” Rodney shrugged. “Given enough of it, the reservoir would fill now just from the three stations. But we can’t have Neil creating thunderstorms constantly, so that really only leaves us with two.”

“What was that about a communications array?” Evan asked, finally shoving his forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

“Long story,” John said. “I’ll show you how they work later. Let’s just say we’ve discovered a few surprises.”

Debating a visit to Carson versus a shower and change of clothes, Evan decided that the latter would be much more enjoyable after the former. He entered the hospital ward and found the healer dozing at the desk in his office. Recognizing the sole occupant of the cots lined against the wall, he walked by the office doorway instead and stood in front of Aiden.

Evan wouldn’t say that Aiden looked good, but he looked better. His skin had lost its sallow tinge and he’d gained back much of his weight. But if the odd creases around his eye were anything to go by, Carson hadn’t been able to heal him entirely. Evan left him to sleep and shook Carson awake.

The man treated the last of Evan’s lingering wounds gently, at odds with his muttered curses, clearly upset that Evan had let himself go untreated so long. Evan caught the phrases “Thor’s own fool” and “hard-headed, stubborn idiot” several times as Carson’s magic mended the crack in his rib and smoothed the skin on his knees and palms that had already scarred over. “If you’d left it any longer, those would be permanent.” Carson muttered “idiot” one more time for good measure and let him go with strict instructions to do nothing more strenuous than sleep and eat for three days. Evan planned on giving himself the night and part of the next day, which would have to do.

Feeling itchy beyond belief now that the mud had dried and his ribs were no longer a distraction, Evan headed straight for his rooms. He left his cloak and boots in a muddy pile by the door and headed to the bathroom. His suite was generously-sized, with a sitting room, bedroom, a small study, and a bathroom large enough for an entire regiment. At least it appeared so now, after making do with quick splashes in cold streams for more than a month.

He stepped out of the rest of his clothing and into the tiled stall of the shower unit, knowing that his bathtub couldn’t handle the volume of dirt that covered him from head to toe. It was several minutes and two rounds of soaping his hair before the water ran clear. Briefly considering a follow-up soak in the bathtub, Evan decided against it. Carson’s healing had left him so weary he was likely to fall asleep and drown.

Wrapping himself in the thickest, fluffiest drying cloth he had, he paused next to his discarded clothing long enough to dig through the pouches on his belt. He pulled out the sculpture of Thorn, turning it in his hands before running it quickly under a stream of water at the sink. He patted it dry with a corner of the cloth and stepped into his bedroom.

There were potted plants along the sill under his window. He blinked at them incomprehensibly and set the sculpture between the two largest. He never kept plants; they inevitably dried out while he was off on patrols, and he always felt guilty about it. WIth a shrug, he decided that the mystery would have to wait until he’d slept ten or twelve hours. He just managed to pull on fresh underclothes before collapsing onto the bed, though it was a near thing.

Something nagged at him as soon as he closed his eyes, and he was nearly asleep when it hit him like a thunderbolt. Jerking upright, he mentally brought up the light in the room and looked at the bedside table. A carved rose lay there, its stem beneath the back cover of an open volume from the library. His rose. _David’s_ rose. He lifted his hand, almost afraid to touch it for fear it would dissipate like a Wraith’s shadow.

“You’re back.” The soft voice from the doorway snapped Evan’s attention from the sculpture. He gaped, wondering if he was already asleep. David couldn’t be here.

“I’m sorry, I seem to have been assigned your rooms. I showed them the rose like you said and someone brought me here, and I didn’t even know they were yours at first, but by the time I figured it out everyone was busy finding space for the other refugees and I didn’t want to make things more difficult.” David caught his breath and stood in the doorframe, looking uncertain. His hair was mussed and his clothing was rumpled and covered in dirt, as were his hands, which he rubbed together almost unconsciously. He was beautiful.

“The Wraith--your house--” Evan didn’t seem to be able to string together even a short sentence. 

“I hid in the cellar and used my magic to join the hatch with the rest of the floor. They never found me. It was harder to keep the floor above me from burning, but at least the smoke went mostly up instead of down.” David licked his lips, and then bit them, looking down and apparently noticing the dirt on his trousers for the first time. “I’ve been working in the greenhouses,” he said, brushing frantically at his knees. “It’s amazing, we’ll be able to grow enough food for everyone now that the heating and lighting systems are working, and--”

“I thought you were dead,” Evan interrupted with a croak. He realized his hand was still poised above the stone rose and pulled it back. He stood slowly and took a step forward. 

“Oh.” David met his gaze and swallowed. “I’m not,” he said, swallowing again.

“I can see that.” Evan laughed and closed the distance, throwing his arms around the taller man. He’d meant it to be a quick embrace, but found that he couldn’t let go. David must have felt his shivering, for he tightened his arms, supporting Evan until he’d had a chance to pull himself together. “Thought you were dead,” he said again, and leaned up to press his lips against David’s.

It felt like they’d done this a hundred times before. David’s hands fit perfectly around Evan’s hips, thumbs rubbing in small circles. Evan’s chest fit the curves of David’s ribs, and David was just the perfect height for Evan to slide his thigh comfortably between his legs. They broke apart after several long minutes and Evan rested his head on David’s shoulder. 

“I should shower,” David whispered, as if afraid to break the moment.

“Don’t you dare,” Evan replied, tugging him closer. “I’d be asleep before you were through.” 

David pulled back then, eyes widening. “Are you hurt?” He ran his hands along Evan’s ribs to his shoulders and down his arms.

Shivering at the touch, Evan said, “I was. But I’m fine now.”

~*~

Evan couldn’t imagine a greater contrast between how he woke the next morning from the day before. He’d been cold, wet, muddy, and miserable, with aching ribs and an aching heart. Now he was pleasantly warm under the blankets with David pressed against his back. How quickly things change, he thought.

Surprised to have awakened before David, he scooted until he was facing the other man, curious about his work in the greenhouses. He wondered what Katie thought of him. He wondered about his family. Farmers, David had said. Suddenly anxious, he shook David awake.

“Your parents lived in Murrow,” Evan said. “Are they--ancestors, I didn’t even think to ask.”

David blinked sleepily then kissed Evan’s forehead. “They’re fine. They heard the alarm in town and managed to hide.” His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “My mother has all but taken over in the greenhouses. Katie doesn’t know quite what to do with her.”

Evan laughed and tugged David’s chin until his lips were in reach. “Good,” he said after a thorough good morning kiss. “I was worried about them, too.”

It was one of the more difficult things Evan had ever done to pull away from David after that. “I should get up. I have to leave today to catch up with some of my men. They’re on their own, heading south, and they need me.”

“You’re leaving?” David’s face fell. He brightened and asked, “Do you need me, too?” He smirked at Evan’s expression and added, “I meant if I could be of any use. I’m not ready for you to leave so soon.”

“I definitely need you,” Evan answered, sliding their hips together to show how much. “But it’s dangerous.”

David rolled them until he had Evan pinned. “All the more reason for me to go,” he whispered.

“Want you to be safe.” Evan gasped the last syllable. David was not arguing fairly.

“I’ll be safe with you.” David said, kissing Evan’s collarbone in just the right spot. 

Evan relented, fearing he was dooming himself to doing whatever David asked of him for the rest of their lives. Which, he realized later, might not be such a bad thing at all.

After grabbing a quick breakfast in the soldiers’ mess, Evan and David raided its stock of travel-packed food supplies, ransacked the storage area for dry tents and blankets, and begged the quartermaster Chuck for extra cloaks and boots, as well as sturdy packhorses that would act as a replacement for the wagon they’d abandoned on the hillside. Then they visited the armory, where Evan found his father, and the two filled each other in on the events of the past few weeks. 

His father had heard most of it from John, and though he looked like he wanted to chastise Evan for not checking in after they’d completed the first part of their mission, he settled on a simple “Your mother was worried.” He clapped Evan on the shoulder and added, “But I told her the work you’re doing is important.” 

Evan nodded gravely. It was nice having a father who understood what he did and why, though it meant he also understood the danger. “This is David,” Evan said, tugging David forward a little. “I mentioned him when I told you about the Wraith and what happened in Genara.”

“Mentioned,” Thomas replied with a smile. “Yes, you ‘mentioned’ him about two dozen times.” Evan blushed, though he was relieved that his father understood that David was special. He shook David’s hand until he rattled, and asked him to watch over his son. “The boy draws trouble like it’s a magical ability,” Thomas laughed.

“Dad!” Evan protested, turning redder. But David only laughed and said he’d keep Evan out of harm’s way as much as he could. 

“I imagine he’d like you to be safe, as well,” Thomas added, turning to the set of armor he’d been working on. “I think...” He tugged on the armor and it stretched under his hands like clay. “Yes, this ought to do.” 

David received the gift with warm thanks, though Evan could tell David was taken aback by the idea of wearing it. “Oh, and I made these.” Thomas rummaged on the workbench again and handed Evan what looked like two scarves of woven metal. They were nearly as light as true fabric. “They might help against the Wraith.”

Evan nodded grimly, realizing their purpose. “I hope so. Thank you.” He refilled his quiver and grabbed an extra, thinking of Nate and Jason. He clasped his father’s hand, neither of them voicing a farewell, something they’d stopped doing long since, as if the act would somehow bring misfortune.

Once in the hallway, Evan pondered how to spend their remaining time. “We have just over an hour to grab lunch before we have to meet Neil, Ben, and Laura by the south gate. Anything you need to do?”

With a grimace, David said, “I should tell my parents I’m leaving.”

“Ah.” Evan pursed his lips, wondering how they would take the news. 

When Evan asked, David put a finger to his lips and replied, “Maybe I should tell my dad and let him tell my mother.” Evan grinned sympathetically; his mother might be used to Evan putting himself in danger, but from the little he’d heard, David’s might not be so understanding. 

In the end David chickened out and told Katie, mumbling an excuse that they didn’t have enough time to track down his parents. Katie smiled as though she understood completely and promised to pass on the information. She fussed over them for a few minutes and loaded their arms with baskets of fresh fruit and vegetables from her own garden, which they’d been using to seed part of the greenhouse. “They’ll last at least a month,” Katie said proudly. Then she hugged David and said, “Take care of Evan, okay?”

Evan sputtered, and then laughed. As they turned to leave, he said, “I’m the field commander of the whole army!” David shifted his baskets so he could grab Evan’s hand, and smiled. 

Though they’d eaten only a few hours before, they grabbed a quick lunch, then packed the last of their things in Evan’s quarters, heading down to the stables with bulging packs. Evan had packed enough socks for a year, having no desire to travel with soggy feet again. David had a bow almost as tall as he was, and a staff that was taller. Evan had sent word ahead to have a supply of horse feed available that they could rely on when the horses didn’t have time to graze. If they needed anything else, it was too late to worry about it.

Ben was already loading the packhorses when they arrived at the stables. When Evan introduced David, he shot Evan a knowing glance, but seemed genuinely happy to have him along. 

“Where are Laura and Neil?” Evan asked as Hugh selected one of the better spare mounts for David.

“Not tagging along this time,” Ben answered. “Laura had a long conversation last night with Radek and Peter. They found a reference to some kind of explosive weapon--” he rolled his eyes, “--and Laura’s going to try to make some, and apparently dragged Neil into it with her.” He glanced at Evan and added, “John was supposed to tell you this morning.”

Evan blushed, aware that he’d missed the opportunity to speak to John again by lazing in his quarters with David. Ah, well--they’d gone over everything that was important the evening before. He refused to feel guilty; with everything likely to happen in the near future, it was the last time he and David would have the chance to be alone together for a good while. The realization made him sigh and cast a sidelong glance at David, which turned into a quiet chuckle as he watched the man attempt to mount his horse. “Please tell me you can ride.”

“Yes. It’s just--” With a final grunt David pulled himself into the saddle, “--that the horses in Murrow were so much smaller.” 

“Your feet must have dragged on the ground,” Evan joked. He gave the horse’s rump a solid pat, and it trotted into the courtyard as David yelped and grabbed for the reins.

Ben and Evan followed with a laugh, each taking the reins of one of the packhorses as they mounted their own. They wove through the streets, more crowded than Evan had ever seen them. Counting days in his head, he feared that no matter how quickly they traveled, they wouldn’t be able to outrace the Genii. And the Wraith were even now awakening their kin, and would march when it was done. Imagining the creatures loose in the city had him nudging Thorn and quickening their pace. 

They’d catch up to Nate and Jason within five days, depending on how fast the men had been moving. The power station on the southern coast was another two days beyond, and they still had to travel the entire length of the country along the eastern border with Tarania to reach the last two. He doubted it could be done in under a month. Evan knew their army could hold against the Genii, but how long would it take the Wraith to travel from the mountains? Feeling bleak, Evan guided Thorn under the heavy stone arch of the southern gate.


	9. Chapter 9

John paced the small room as Rodney sat in the control chair. As much as he hated to admit it, the other man had proved to be better at cajoling Atlantis into revealing the complicated pathways of power under the streets and through the towers than John was. And he reveled in the work, face splitting with a happy smile every time he sat down.

Although John had been worried that Rodney would lose himself in the work, restoring as much of the power as they had seemed to make the city more aware, and he claimed that it pulled at him much less than it had before.

But still they couldn’t find a way to activate the shield. Aside from power issues, the command was buried under security measures, mixed in with other systems that seemed unrelated, and, Rodney told him, in disrepair from having kept the city whole for thousands of years. They’d learned that the power stations had decayed slowly, replenishing the reservoir less and less with each passing year until the shield had finally failed. After that, a cycle had started when systems in Atlantis, now exposed to the elements, shut down one by one. Then, with the city using less power, the reservoir under the city started to fill again. The problem now was that they had fixed many of those systems when they’d found the city again, and then had drained the stockpile further by using their magic. What was coming in from the repaired stations was greater than what was going out, but only by a hair.

“Hey,” Rodney called, drawing John’s attention from the odd metal sculpture on the wall, “How badly do you think people really need hot water?”

“Rodney,” John sighed. “We can’t shut down the hot water.” If it were up to Rodney, they’d be without lights, transporters, stoves, air filtration, and, apparently, hot water. For a man who loved his comforts, Rodney was prepared to turn the city into living spaces little better than metal caves for the sake of the shield. It had become almost an obsession. Of course, John had to admit, one that might save them all. 

“You could be saving power by not using the chair so much,” John pointed out. “In a week, less if we’re lucky, Evan and the others will have the next station repaired. Maybe that will tip the balance.”

“Maybe,” Rodney replied. He stood and stretched, scowling at the stiffness after sitting so long, and admitted, “Even if I shut down every system in the entire city, it might only buy us a few extra day’s worth of power to run the shield.” He snorted. “And that’s if we ever reach the point that we can activate it in the first place.”

“Mmm,” John agreed. Stephen had given him a dose of harsh reality when they last met. John and Rodney had informed both of his advisors about the news Sora Tyrus had brought, sparking a long debate over whether or not to evacuate the city. The only thing they agreed on was to send messengers to both Sateda and Athos, warning them of the change in the timeline.

“We can’t evacuate,” John had insisted. “We’re close to having enough power to raise the shield.” At the time, he’d thought that to be true. “We can hold out against the Genii until we have enough power to run the shield, and then it’s only a matter of letting the Wraith get rid of them for us.”

“Rid of the Genii, but what about the Wraith afterward?” Stephen had asked.

“The Wraith won’t be able to get _in_ ,” Rodney had answered with a hint of exasperation. “That’s the whole point.”

Stephen had leaned forward over the conference table and raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Rodney, I understand that. But how long can we survive penned in like that?” He’d fixed John with a fierce look. “From everything we’ve learned, these seem to be the same Wraith that drove our ancestors away thousands of years ago. And I don’t mean the same kind of creature, I mean the same _individuals._ If it comes down to a waiting game, the Wraith are going to beat us every time.”

John had felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Of course Stephen was right. But it didn’t make the shield less of a priority; it had only added others to the list. And so Rodney kept at it, making adjustments and studying the systems until he complained he saw them in his sleep. “Time to take a break,” John said now, leading Rodney from the chair room to the hospital ward to talk to Aiden.

Carson had been bubbling with excitement at the discoveries he’d made while examining the soldier. John thought it was a bit morbid, but Carson was fascinated with the process through which the Wraith drained life from humans. Aiden had put up with the tests patiently for the first few days, but John could tell he was chewing at the bit to be away from the healer’s constant prodding.

“John,” Aiden said when he caught sight of him, “Carson says I need your permission to get out of here.” He jerked his head toward Carson’s office. His eye was still black and glassy; despite his best efforts, Carson hadn’t been able to reverse whatever had happened.

“I’ll go talk to him now,” John replied. “Why don’t you stay and catch up on things, Rodney?” He flicked his eyes from Aiden and back, hoping that Rodney would get the message. 

Rodney’s glare turned into a look of understanding, and he turned toward the cot and said with forced joviality, “So I hear the food’s been terrible. You know, I keep sending requests for the hospital kitchen staff to get a major overhaul, but no one listens.”

John turned toward Carson’s office, and though Aiden was responding to Rodney’s words, he could feel the man’s eyes follow him across the room. 

“What’s going on?” John asked Carson as soon as the door closed behind him. “You never ask my permission to release patients.”

“I’m concerned that Aiden may have been more affected by the Wraith than he lets on,” Carson said, pulling a stack of journals off of a chair so that John could sit. John did, getting the impression that this wasn’t going to be a short conversation.

“The Wraith feed on energy,” Carson began, pushing one of the journals across the desk so that John could look at it. He’d drawn several sketches of Wraith, and though they weren’t quite accurate, the detail was chilling enough to make John shift in his chair. On the drawing of one of the creature’s hands, Carson had inked a hard outline on its palm. Not having been close enough to a Wraith to have seen it for himself--and he thanked the ancestors for that--he tapped it with his finger and looked to Carson for an explanation.

Carson hummed, as if trying to think of the best way to explain it. “That’s from Aiden’s description,” he began. “The Wraith seem to feed through their hands. Not through the skin, mind you, but through some kind of specialized mouth, for lack of a better term.”

“Ew,” John said, pushing the journal back to the center of the desk. It fit with what he’d seen, but that didn’t make it any less gruesome.

“Aye,” Carson agreed. “But it tells me that they’re not using magic.” John raised his eyebrow, and Carson explained, “They wouldn’t need a mouth, then, would they? You don’t have specialized openings in your appendages to work magic.”

“And I’m extremely grateful for that,” John said. “Okay, but how do you explain the shadows that they seem to make?”

Carson shrugged. “I can’t. Regardless,” he continued, “From what I can tell, something enters the victim through the Wraiths’ hands to facilitate the feeding process. Most of the traces within Aiden are long gone, but I’m afraid that using his magic to heal himself during the feeding somehow forced his body to absorb the substance. Without anywhere to go, his healing made it a part of him, instead.”

“So Aiden is what--part Wraith now?” John furrowed his brow, wondering how that could be possible. 

“It’s only a theory,” Carson said. “I can’t be sure without examining him more, and he’s getting a bit impatient with--”

The sound of Rodney’s yell from the other room had John leaping from his chair and running through the doorway, heart beating wildly. He skidded to a halt as Rodney stumbled backward into him. “What?”

Aiden stood a few feet away, looking at Rodney in amazement.

“He--he was trying to suck my magic out of me,” Rodney explained breathlessly. “I thought you wanted me to see what his healing had done, so I sent just a little bit into him, and--”

“I didn’t mean to!” Aiden exclaimed.

John raised his hands placatingly and stepped in front of Rodney. Behind him, he could hear Carson passing through the doorway and he stopped the healer with a quick glance. “It’s okay, Aiden,” John said. “Just calm down and let us figure out what’s going on.”

“No.” Aiden stepped sideways toward the exit, and John shifted to stay even with him. “You won’t let me go. You don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true,” John said. “You only need time to rest, to let Carson figure this out.”

Aiden braced himself against the wall and slid another few feet toward the exit. “Carson tried already,” he said. “I know he can’t fix me.” 

Suddenly the room was thrown into pitch blackness as the lights went out. John lunged toward Aiden, and his fingers brushed the other man’s shoulder as he ran through the doorway. “Aiden!” John shoved Rodney toward Carson and said, “Take care of him.” Then he was out the door and running.

It wasn’t difficult to follow Aiden’s path, for he’d somehow turned off the lights as he went. John sent a frantic request to Atlantis, but there was no response. When John turned the corner and nearly ran into the closed doors of a transporter, he gave a yell of frustration and beat the doors with his fists. Aiden had shut that down, too, and was gone, somewhere in the vast stretches of the city.

~*~

“Please explain to me how this could have happened.” Stephen rubbed at his face and scowled. 

“We’re not really sure,” John answered, leaning back in his chair. They hadn’t found Aiden. Either he was hiding very well, or he was gone. 

“The Wraith feed on energy,” Rodney said in the exact same tone Carson had said them to John earlier. “Somehow when Aiden healed himself, he gained the same ability.”

Elizabeth shook her head and frowned. “He was able to...steal some of your magic?” Rodney nodded. “ _And_ he drew enough power from the city to shut off the lights and the transporters around the hospital. That’s not the same as the Wraith feeding on a human.”

Rodney threw up his hands. “The power that runs the city, magic, life--what’s the difference?” He stood to pace, and John wondered if he’d understand the explanation any better than the last time he’d heard it. “Look,” Rodney said, his tone conveying that he was using up what little store of patience he had. “Plants grow using the energy of the sun, right?” Elizabeth and Stephen nodded. “And then we eat plants and get their energy, which in turn keeps us alive.”

“I think they might need a bit more than that,” John prompted, noting the skeptical looks on their faces. 

“It’s all the same energy,” Rodney said, hands waving so wildly John feared for his glass of wine. “Humans live off of the energy from the sun, once or twice removed. And the power for our magic comes from stations that, as we saw, also gather energy from the sun, among other things. We store energy in our bodies, and the city stores energy in its reservoir.” He pointed to the window that revealed a stunning view of the towers and buildings. “It’s all the same. The Wraith have just adapted to one particular source of energy. Us.” He sat down and crossed his arms as though there was no room for debate.

“So,” Elizabeth said slowly, “the changes that happened to Aiden adapted him to be able to use _other_ sources of the same energy.”

“Exactly!” Rodney threw John a look that clearly implied that he was disappointed that John hadn’t gotten it as quickly as Elizabeth.

“What happens if the Wraith get a hold of him? What if they learn he can feed on the power of our city or our magic?” Stephen asked. “Could they learn to do that?”

Rodney’s face fell. “Well that would be terrible.” They all looked at him in shock, but Rodney held up his hands and continued, “No, I don’t think that’s possible. But it might be why the Wraith are so interested in us. We’re like a ham sandwich on top of a chocolate cake.” 

“Because they also get whatever magic they can draw from us before we die,” John translated. “And by the way, that was the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard.”

~*~

Rodney griped for three solid days about how much power Aiden had drained from the city. It had been just enough for some kind of backup system to kick in, blocking off conduits to affected areas in response to the unnatural and sudden loss of power. “Which is the only good part of it,” Rodney said, “because he could have taken more.” But also a pain in the neck, because the shutoff switches needed to be reset manually.

They enlisted the aid of Radek, who’d had experience helping to fix the systems before. John could only call his magic “super-vision,” because there wasn’t really any other way to describe it. Radek could see behind the metal walls of the city as though they were translucent, or read the binding of a book from across the room. Radek used his shirt to clean the glasses he usually wore as they walked the halls; the magic-made lenses helped to focus his magic, making it easier to filter out the information he wanted.

John trailed behind Rodney and Radek as they made their way through the corridors, starting in the hospital wing and working their way down the tower to the last place Aiden had disrupted the system. No one had reported malfunctioning lights or other interruptions since the day before, which John half-hoped meant Aiden had left the city.

“It should be somewhere along here,” Rodney said, pointing to a vast stretch of wall. 

“Yes, yes, I can see the wiring, but where--” Radek tilted his head, looking a bit like one of his pigeons.

“Look for a junction,” Rodney interrupted. 

“I have done this before,” Radek replied. “Many times just today, in fact.”

“Well then, you’d think you’d have gotten better at it by now.” Rodney scowled, clearly frustrated that he couldn’t pinpoint the exact locations where the safety switches had engaged. With no power flowing through the disrupted areas, there was nothing for him to trace. That didn’t stop him from taking charge of the operation, of course.

Radek pointed at a panel just above his head, and John wove the smallest tendril of air that he could, carefully tugging on the metal fasteners until they came loose. He collected them in his palm and lifted the panel, setting it gently on the floor. The first time they’d located one of the switches, Rodney had stood with his hands on his hips and bemoaned the fact that neither Nate nor Jason was there to help.

John had let the two argue over a solution for a couple of minutes before silently removing an entire section of the wall. When Rodney had noticed, he’d said, “Right. Of course we can do this manually,” and had set to work moving crystals by hand as though he’d thought of the idea himself.

Amusing as it had been at the time, that had been three days ago, and John prayed to the ancestors that they were almost done. Even if they couldn’t do anything about the shield at the moment, he could at least catch up on sleep. If a thousand different things didn’t beg for his attention first. 

When they finished another section just before dinner and the lights in the hallway outside of one of the residential areas hummed back to life, John gratefully fitted the panel back into place and leaned against the opposite wall. “Anywhere else?” 

Rodney shrugged. “I don’t think so, but I should probably check through the control chair to make sure it’s all back up and running properly.”

“Okay,” John said. “Let’s--” He froze, seeing something out of the corner of his eye that should not be there. It was gone as soon as he looked, but he could have sworn it was one of the shadows the Wraith used to confuse their prey.

“Rodney, Radek--get behind me.” Ignoring their startled protests, John took a few cautious steps down the corridor. When another of the shadows appeared from around the corner, he cursed and swiveled wildly, trying to see the Wraith before it could get close.

“John--there!” John turned to where Rodney pointed and lashed out with his magic, wishing he had a sword. To his surprise, he felt the air sharpen to an impossibly thin edge, and he pushed it toward the creature with all the strength he had. The Wraith fell to the floor, neatly severed in half. 

“Well, that was effective,” Rodney said. He stepped forward and crouched next to the body. “Why is this one wearing a mask?”

“I don’t know, Rodney. Sora said there were scouts around the city. I’m more concerned with knowing if there are any more.” And more importantly, if this was the beginning of an all out attack. Kolya and the Genii were meant to arrive first, but if the Wraith could devour them at the walls of the city, they could just as easily have overtaken the army and done so miles away.

John raced to the nearest communications array, leaving Rodney to pull a stunned Radek along behind him. John placed his palm on the flat glass screen and thought about the small room attached to Evan’s office, which now had someone stationed in it at all times. “This is John,” he said, hoping that he was getting through. “We’re in the northeast residential areas three levels up from the ground floor. We just encountered a Wraith.”

A hesitant voice hummed through the perforated metal near John’s hand. “Did you say a Wraith? Hold on a moment.” It sounded like Lindsey Novak, who, if John remembered correctly, was level-headed enough to know how to handle the news. John waited, and after a moment Lindsey said, “I’ve informed Captain Rivers. He’s sending three units your way; they should be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” John turned as Rodney and Radek finally caught up. Radek still looked shaken, and John gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

“The teeth.” Radek shivered. “Why does it have such terrible teeth if it does not eat food?”

“Here’s a tip,” Rodney told him. “If a horrible monster has to wear a mask, you probably don’t want to look to see what’s beneath it.”

Though they scoured the halls and stairways for the next hour, neither John nor the soldiers found any evidence of another Wraith. The soldiers stared at the dead Wraith with looks of horror and disgust. John chose four of the men who had flinched less than the others and directed them to take the body to Carson. He’d want to examine it. 

~*~

With little to do other than worry, John spent a great deal of each day either on the practice grounds with the soldiers or in the armories nearby. They’d added a second one strictly for the manufacture of magical weapons after Laura had nearly blown up their entire stockpile of bows and arrows. 

Recalling how he’d killed the Wraith, John practiced throwing blades made of air until he could hit the practice targets with hardly a thought. 

Laura and Neil joined him one afternoon, carefully wheeling a cart over the uneven ground. “I’m glad you’re out here,” Laura said. “I’ve got something for you to test.”

“It’s going to explode, isn’t it?” John asked with a grin.

“It is,” Neil agreed, “and you’re going to love it.” He pulled a glass ball from a padded crate in the back of the wagon. It seemed to be filled with fire that pushed at the glass like it wanted to get out.

“They’re too delicate for any kind of catapult,” Laura said. “I thought you’d be able to throw them with your magic.” She smirked and threw the ball straight up into the air.

John cursed and caught it, cradling it with a sling of air. “Delicate, you said.” He sighed when she only laughed, and flung the ball at one of the targets. It left a glowing orange streak where it traveled, and when it hit.... John staggered backward, throwing up a thin shield just before the shower of dirt hit them. He turned to the two soldiers and held up a finger. Knowing that a lecture would only fall on deaf ears, he simply said, “You could warn a guy.”

Turning to where the target used to be, John shrugged and admitted, “That was pretty spectacular, though, yeah.”

“Neil thinks he can figure out a way to put lightning into some of them,” Laura said proudly, throwing her arm around Neil’s shoulders. 

“Do it,” John said. “We’ll need all the advantage we can get.” He paused, tilting his head as if to look at the sky, though in truth he was trying to find a reason to stall, to stay out of the towers for just a little longer. But there was nothing for him to do here. Stephen and Elizabeth were seeing to the defenses, and Rodney was working on the shield.

Instead, he returned to his study, looking over the map covering his desk. He moved the small wooden markers that represented Evan’s group another inch south along the road, the equivalent of how far he thought they might travel in a day. They were just short of reaching the power station on the coast. John pursed his lips and then pushed the markers the rest of the way, as though he could hurry them along just by wishing it.


	10. Chapter 10

Evan was just thinking it was time to stop and make camp when Ben announced, “I think I can feel Nate and Jason.” He pulled his horse in a circle on the road, pointing. Evan drew up alongside, looking where he indicated, but could see nothing through the thickly growing trunks and mossy branches. “They’re about five miles yet,” Ben laughed.

“Let’s keep going then,” Evan declared. “It will save us the work of finding a dry place to sleep.”

“You’re assuming they managed to find one,” David said. 

“True.” They’d entered the swamp the day before close to the Rhule River that divided the southern half of Lantea from Genara, a branch of the Hyppon River that flowed southeast out of the mountains as it neared the ocean. As Evan had predicted, the recent rains had raised the water level, though it was still lower than he remembered from the only other time he’d passed through, years ago. It was hard to believe there was solid ground beneath them, but the conduit was there, a bright line in the back of Evan’s head.

He steered them past the deeper pools, using his magic to suss out the best path for the horses. Between that and keeping a thread of his magic attached to the conduit, Evan didn’t have the power to spare to actually fix the breaks he felt in the protective pipeline, but he left that worry for later, feeling the press of time at their backs.

Bark spotted Nate and Jason first, alerting them with a sharp cry before swooping in a fast dive and pulling up to land on David’s outstretched arm. The hawk had nearly given Evan a heart attack when she had pulled the same stunt on their first day out from Atlantis, though even the packhorses seemed used to her sudden appearances now. 

“We’re close,” Ben confirmed, nodding toward a stand of trees. Evan sent his magic forward in a ripple, relieved to feel the ground ahead of them rise above the water. He called ahead to announce their presence; the two soldiers probably hadn’t bothered to split a watch in the middle of a swamp.

Jason’s face peered from around one of the trees. He beamed at them and waved, and within moments they were slapping each other’s backs in welcome and gathering around what was definitely not a campfire. 

“Nothing will burn,” Nate moaned. “It’s all too wet.” He looked at their packhorses hopefully and added, “Well, even if Laura’s not here, you must have fresh provisions. Please tell me you do.”

Evan had almost forgotten that the two soldiers hadn’t been back to the city. He felt a little guilty about his luxuriant shower and night in a real bed, though he was just as filthy as they were, now. “We brought plenty,” Evan told him.

“Let me...” David said by the fire. He reached out a hand over the pathetic pile of sodden sticks, and after a moment, leaned back on his heels and said, “Try lighting it now.”

“You’re the plant guy!” Nate blurted. “The one from the mountains that Evan--” he stopped himself short and blushed, then clapped David on the back. “Freyr, are we glad you’re okay. We were afraid Evan was going to mope for _years._ ”

Evan shot him a glare, but David’s face brightened. He turned to face Evan. “You moped?”

“No.” Evan had to stop himself from sticking his bottom lip out. “I did not mope.”

“You absolutely did,” Jason said. “He raised this huge rock memorial right next to your house. It had impressions of flowers and vines all over it, and little basins that collected water that came from inside it somehow. It was very romantic,” he finished gravely.

“Wasn’t going to tell him about that,” Evan muttered. He turned to rummage in the saddlebags before David could see how red his face was. Pulling out two oranges, he threw them to Nate and Jason, saying, “Courtesy of Katie.”

They spent the remaining daylight catching up with all that had happened while they’d been split up. The fire crackled merrily now, throwing light against the leaves and reflecting off the water beyond their little hummock. When the conversation died down, Evan stood and regarded the group solemnly. “It’s been a week since Sora gave us her warning. That gives us maybe another two before the Genii reach Atlantis.” 

“No pressure,” Nate muttered. 

“We can do it,” Evan replied, reaching down a hand to pull David to his feet. He didn’t quite believe it, but by Thor, they’d give it their best.

~*~

They were out of the swamp by the afternoon of the next day. In unspoken agreement, they increased their pace to an easy trot that the horses could keep up for miles, slowing to a walk between stretches before they could become overtired.

Nate and Jason took turns repairing the conduit as they rode over it, and they worked out a system of signaling Evan to repair a crack or split in the pipe so that he didn’t have to use his magic constantly to monitor it.

They reached the end of the southern conduit just as the sun was setting. The ocean spread before them in a seemingly endless stretch of blue, though somewhere at the other end lay Chian, and the rest of their people. _Though are they really our people anymore?_ Evan wondered. 

“Kind of an obvious question here, but...” Jason stared out over the water, raising his hand to shield it from the glare.

“Where’s the station?” Nate finished.

Evan had a pretty good hunch. “Under the water. You can just see the tops of it out there. See where the waves are breaking like they would on a shallow reef? I think the station collects the power of the waves, or...or maybe the tide?” He reached out with his senses and found what he was looking for. “It’s huge.” Buried in foundations of stone were enormous columns of metal that looked like larger versions of the towers that had collected wind far to the north.

“And corroded.” Jason sighed. “This is going to take a while.”

To their credit, the men worked well into the night, returning to their blankets and falling into them just as Evan was waking Ben to take the second watch. He let the two of them sleep a little longer in the morning while he and David prepared a quick breakfast, waiting to shake them awake only when he had coffee to offer in return. They rose blearily, and stood with Evan near the shore. The two metal workers had fixed all but the bolts that allowed the enormous turbines to move, leaving the energy build-up at a minimum until they could work together to ensure that the crystals and wires that controlled the mechanism were in proper order.

“That’s four,” Nate said with a yawn as they finished. “We get a pay raise after this, right?”

“And a bigger room,” Jason added. “We want our own suite in the towers.”

“That can be arranged,” Evan replied with a laugh. 

~*~

Though they pushed the horses as hard as they dared, it was another six days before the River Kesh came into view, with the low rise of hills that was Tarania visible beyond. The power station in the west was a simple stone construction built across the Kesh, catching the river behind it before letting it fall again on the other side. The river all but raged here from where it had gathered force coming down from the foothills of the mountain range that widened into broad peaks near the border with Sateda.

“It’s pretty clear where this station gets its power,” David shouted over the roar of the water. 

Evan nodded, in awe of the strength it must have taken to shape all that stone. Though physically weary, his magic had recovered as they’d ridden across the southern plains. Pulling as much of it into himself as he could, he felt for fractures and breaks in the stone structure while Nate and Jason did the same with the metal wheels inside of the square tunnels spaced across the top. Their experience allowed them to mend the controls just as quickly, slotting them into place until they sensed the tiny hum that meant it was active.

They barely paused when they were done, only long enough to drink and refill their flasks from the icy water. Climbing determinedly back into their saddles, they wheeled their horses east and reached once again for the line carrying power back to the city.

“If this system ever breaks down again,” Nate said as he nudged his horse into a gallop, “they can find someone else to fix it.”

Evan agreed, though he was pleasantly surprised to find how much easier it was to do the repair work as they rode. It was almost a reward in and of itself not to have to concentrate so hard to follow the pipe under his horse’s hooves, and to mend a fracture with hardly a thought. 

When they were two days out from the city, Ben jerked so violently he almost toppled from the saddle. “Wraith!” he gasped, fighting to keep his horse under control. “It’s the same as I felt with Murrow.”

“Where?” Evan demanded, sparing a glance at David, who had gone pale. 

“Not far.” Ben looked sick, ready to topple from the saddle with the effort it must be taking to keep from broadcasting the fear.

“We must be close to Hall Creek,” Nate said, looking to Evan for his order.

Time, Evan thought. If we help them, it will take time. But they couldn’t ignore it. “We’ll help them if we can.” He took a moment to make sure that his weapons were handy as the others did the same. “You should stay back,” he said to David. “The Wraith are...” he shuddered. “Bad.” The word didn’t do them justice. But then, David had survived an attack already, and must have passed through Murrow. He knew.

“I’ve got a good range with this bow,” he replied calmly, holding the weapon aloft. “Don’t worry about me.” He gave a smile that said he understood Evan would worry anyway.

Evan nodded and spurred Thorn into a gallop. When they topped the next rise they could see the smoke and in another mile they could smell it. The roofs came into view within minutes, and Evan heard the screams of the terrified people. They slowed a few hundred yards out, scanning for shadows and seeking the Wraith. A man rose from the scrub and bolted toward them, and the Wraith that had been watching from the shadows of a building stepped into view, so intent on his target that he didn’t seem to notice the men on horseback. 

Reaching for his crossbow, Evan nudged Thorn with his knees and slowed for the shot. But before he could even aim, an arrow plunged into the Wraith’s neck. Evan turned toward Nate, whose shooting he knew to be exceptional, but it was David who stood in the stirrups with his fingers still resting near his cheek with the arrow’s release. 

Evan spared a moment to promise himself not to underestimate David in the future, and then he was galloping Thorn over the dirt road and into town, crossing onto the cobblestones with a loud clatter of hooves. The noise drew the attention of two nearby Wraith, one who had fed dropping a corpse with a hiss and turning so that Evan’s bolt hit its shoulder instead of its chest. Evan swore but ignored it, pulling Thorn’s reins and reaching out with his magic at the same time. The cobblestones beneath the second Wraith heaved, sending it sprawling backward and loosing its hold of another villager. The man slumped to the ground, and Evan had to hope he was still alive, even as he ordered the rock beneath the Wraith into sharp spikes that pierced it in several places. The Wraith twitched and was still, and Evan turned his attention back to the first creature. It had pulled the bolt from its shoulder, and grinned as though it knew Evan had no time to load another. “Haven’t met anyone with magic yet, have you?” he said, reaching toward the stones in the road again. 

They flew with a force that surprised even Evan, who was used to the effects of the trick only with small stones, a defense he’d used in the past mostly as a distraction. The square pieces of rock hit the Wraith with a sickening crunch and it toppled, lifeless.

Swinging Thorn in a circle, he sought more of the creatures, and movement farther down the road caught his eye. Someone struggled in the grip of a Wraith, pressed against a wall that was already on fire, the flames looking close enough to consume them in moments. Thorn leapt toward them as the Wraith suddenly fell. Evan looked for an arrow, but the Wraith had no obvious wounds. Then the second figure turned, and Evan gasped. It was Aiden. 

Evan called out and the man paused. Remembering how jumpy he’d been last time, Evan held his hands out and approached slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“They talk to each other,” Aiden said instead of answering. “They know where their kin are, and how fast they’re moving.”

“Toward Atlantis,” Evan said.

“Atlantis,” Aiden agreed. His eyes moved toward something behind Evan at the same time he heard another set of hooves on the town road. Swiveling to look, he saw Ben atop his mount, swaying in his saddle.

“More,” Ben gasped as his horse slid to a halt. 

“Where?” Evan asked, even as he was wondering if they could afford the time.

Ben shook his head. “Not another village. Atlantis.” He sucked in another breath and added, “The Genii have reached the city.”

“Thor curse it,” Evan swore. That was it; there was no more time. He turned to look for Aiden, but the man was gone. He swore again and followed Ben back to the others. 

They’d saved most of the village, though Evan was pleased to note that the people hadn’t been entirely helpless. Several of the townsfolk had enough magic to fight with, and they’d been holding their own, more or less, before Evan’s group had arrived. He apologized for not being able to stay and help with the fires, pausing only long enough to give them what little information they had about the current situation.

Drawing the others into a group at the edge of the buildings as the villagers put out the last of the flames, Evan repeated Ben’s news. “We knew it would happen,” he told them, trying to sound calm even though part of him wanted to race back and join the battle. “Sora said they’d already started marching when we left.” Staring down the road that led to Atlantis, he tried to think of a way to enter the city unnoticed. As much as his fingers itched to engage the Genii, that wasn’t their mission. He turned and tilted his head at Nate and Jason. “How far do you think you can reach now?”

The men looked at each other, seeming to communicate quietly. “Not all the way to the city. Not yet.”

“I don’t think I could, either. We’ll keep going for now and get as close as we can. We’ll avoid the Genii and sneak around to the northeast and pick up the conduit again there.” They rode more slowly after that, both to rest the horses and to avoid running into another party of Wraith. They might not have finished ahead of the Genii’s arrival, but Evan promised himself they’d beat the Wraith, wishing Aiden had told him how close they were. He could only hope that the man had gone to warn John.

~*~

Evan called a halt where the hills ended and the land began a long downward slope toward the city. If he’d guessed correctly, they were about ten miles from where the Genii might have encamped around the city, assuming they’d spread to surround it since they’d arrived the day before. Though Ben sought them with his magic, the sheer number of people made it impossible for him to tell exactly where the army was, and Evan refused to take chances. This was as close as he would take them.

It was farther than Evan had ever tried to work stone. He could sense things well beyond that range, but to affect it was another matter. They pulled the horses into a hidden copse, where the animals bent their heads to graze gratefully. “At least you two get to work together,” he told Jason and Nate.

David squeezed his shoulders and murmured encouragement, and Evan took strength from his presence. He sat cross legged in the grass and began by reaching down beneath him, hooking a line of power to the conduit. The thread raced along it, fusing stone back together as quickly as thought. When the power thinned, he moved more carefully, feeling as though he were trying to brush Thorn in the dark. It was difficult, but he’d done almost nothing else for weeks now, and he wove by rote, knowing the proper feel of it like a sense memory.

By the time he felt the walls of Atlantis above, he was stretched almost beyond range. Almost, but not quite. The last crack mended, and he drew his power back to him, having to reel it in sluggishly. He moaned and opened his eyes. David peered at him with concern, and handed him a tin cup. “Thanks,” Evan croaked. The tea was cold, but the magic in it restored him as well as a few hours’ rest would. David filled another cup from a flask and handed it to Jason, who drank the contents and handed the cup back to be filled for Nate.

Mounting their horses yet again, Evan turned them north. Poor Thorn, he thought, patting the stallion’s neck. He deserved to be let loose in a pasture with his choice of mares after this. Nudging the obedient horse into a trot, he tried not to picture the battle that was taking place half a day’s ride to the west. He wanted badly to join them, and knew that Ben, Nate, and Jason felt the same. David must be worried about his family, as well. But what they did now might save all of them.

They kept to the lower areas between the hills, fearing the Genii scouts would see them if they crossed the high ground. For the sake of the horses, they made camp while there was still some daylight. They had long since gone through their supply of feed; though light and compact and especially prepared to nourish the horses with less, they could only carry so much. It was time they needed, but neither would Evan drive his horses to death if they could avoid it. Their own provisions were holding out, but only just. It was still dark when they roused and ate a cold breakfast, turning to meet the conduit that ran toward Sateda, northeast of the city. 

At least they could stay on the road for as long as it lasted, following the buried wire and rock with their magic even when its path strayed miles distant. 

It was David who voiced what they were all feeling days on, when the power from the dam should have long since started gathering in the reservoir. “There are only six of these stations, and you’ve repaired five. I do feel like my magic is stronger, but...” He trailed off and ran hand through his hair. 

“But I still couldn’t build a wall.” Evan glanced over his shoulder, though they were well beyond view of the city. “Maybe it’s that John and the others are using so much more magic now,” he suggested. “Or maybe they’ve activated the shield already. I mean, it’s all a common source.”

“Maybe,” Jason said. “But we would have felt it swell and then--then dip again, right?”

Evan didn’t think that Rodney would use the same terms, but he knew what Jason meant. He didn’t have an answer for them. He could only ride on, and hope.

When Ben announced the presence of another army ahead of them, Evan felt a wild moment of despair. “Friendly,” Ben added, noting his expression. The Satedans, Evan thought. Thank the ancestors, they might reach Atlantis before the Wraith. Even if their efforts repairing the system proved fruitless, it gave them a flicker of hope. It might only be the strength of two small candles joining their flames against the flare of a campfire, but hope, nonetheless.

They raced ahead, heedless of Satedan scouts looking for Genii or Wraith, and stopped short in awe when the front line of soldiers came into view. “By Thor,” Evan whispered. The Satedans had increased their army since the last siege. He couldn’t see the end of the column. 

Knowing that the chance of finding Ronon was slim, Evan approached the front ranks and identified their party. The soldiers lowered their weapons, directing them to the squad leaders who rode horses behind the footmen. They wove their way as a path slowly opened, earning curious glances from the men. He noticed with only a little surprise that there were Athosians in the group as well, blending comfortably with the Satedans as they marched among them.

That explained the numbers, and Evan’s heart felt a little lighter. He dismounted in front of a man whose uniform seemed more ornate than the others. Giving a Lantean salute out of courtesy, he introduced himself and his own men and said, “The Genii have already begun their siege of Atlantis. The Wraith might be marching now, but we don’t know how long it will be before they arrive.” It was a succinct report, Evan knew, but he expected to repeat himself several times before they could be on their way.

The man nodded and leapt from his saddle. Evan envied the man’s energy. “My name is Tyre. I only command the Swordstrike--allow me a few moments to gather the others.” He whistled, and a young woman trotted over, listening to Tyre’s instructions before running off again. “In the meantime, why don’t you rest while my men check over your packhorses. We’re well-provisioned for the moment, and can spare the supplies to replace what you need.” 

Evan decided he liked the man. He hadn’t even questioned their presence, merely accepted that they had some grave errand and offered support. They chatted amicably with the young man and woman who arrived shortly to make a list of anything Evan’s group was lacking. Ara gave Evan a dimpled grin, explaining that their logistics commander had nearly had a fit trying to supply the army for a trek to Atlantis on such short notice. “But I’m glad,” she said. “My father fought the Genii last time, and he always said that a soldier doesn’t know her own mettle until she tests it against the anvil of war.” Her companion Akai nodded his enthusiastic agreement.

Personally, Evan felt that he could have gone his whole life without testing his mettle. Perhaps when he’d been younger he might have felt differently, but he’d buried enough bodies now to find that he had no taste for war. 

Trying to think of a polite response, Evan gasped in surprise as he was grabbed from behind and lifted off of his feet. “Evan!” Ronon’s rough voice in his ear nearly deafened him.

“Uff,” Evan responded. Ronon let go, and Evan’s feet hit the ground hard enough to make his teeth rattle. He sucked in a breath as he turned, and said, “Ronon, It’s good to see you. And Teyla,” he added when the Athosian stepped forward. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Teyla grasped his shoulders, and Evan dipped his head to meet hers. They touched foreheads briefly and she stepped back with a smile. “Ben. Nate, Jason--my eyes see with joy.” The others also greeted her in the Athosian style, and when Evan introduced David, he was received just as warmly.

They were shortly joined by Halling, who had a young boy in tow, and two other Athosians who were introduced as Kanaan and Marta. The appearance of an older Satedan whose face and hands were heavily battle-scarred was almost startling next to the young faces of the rest of the commanders. “Marke Hartoren,” he said, clasping Evan’s arm. “Nominally in charge. I keep telling them that the Genii are a hard lot, but they’re eager just the same.”

“We appreciate the assistance,” Evan said. “We have some news...” Telling everything would take too long, and so he gave as brief a summary as he could, ending with their current journey toward the last power station.

“Well, then, we won’t keep you overlong.” His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Magic,” he snorted. “Be grateful for any advantage you possess over your enemies, but remember at the end of the day you only have two hands.” He winked, adding, “One to hold a sword, and one to hold a shield.”

Evan laughed appreciatively, and as they went through another round of hand shaking and head butting, Halling tugged on Evan’s sleeve and said, “A moment, please.” When Evan nodded, the man nudged the boy at his side forward and continued, “This is my son, Jinto. He hid among the crates in one of the wagons and was not discovered until it was too late to send him home.” Halling glared at the boy, and he cowered, then drew himself up to his full height. 

“I just wanted to come with you and see what war was like.” Though he put on a brave face, Jinto’s voice broke on the word “war.” If he’d been hearing stories from Commander Hartoren, Evan thought, he likely wasn’t as enthusiastic now as he had been.

Halling’s face darkened, and he met Evan’s gaze with an expression that implied he was just short of strangling the boy. “I would ask that you take him with you and keep him away from the fighting for a while longer.”

Evan pursed his lips and considered it. The chances of Genii or Wraith on the heels of the army were slim, and barring those threats, the rest of their journey should be safe enough. They had plenty of provisions, with the army seeing to their needs. “We’ll eventually have to fight our way back into the city.”

“Perhaps by then we will have...convinced...the Genii to be on their way.” Halling’s smile was barely a twitch of the lips, and Evan realized he was not as eager for battle as the others.

It was that as much as anything that made Evan’s decision. He knew very well what it was like to worry about others while you fought for your own life. “Okay, Jinto. You can come with us,” Evan said, hoping to make the boy feel like he’d had a say in the matter. “But David here is in charge, okay? You have to do what he says. What we’re doing is very, very important.”

David turned when he heard his name and smiled fondly down at Jinto. The Athosian boy considered him seriously for a moment, then nodded. Apparently deciding that accompanying the Lanteans on their important mission might be an acceptable alternative to watching a battle, he grinned. 

“Be good.” Halling pulled the boy into an embrace and they touched their head together briefly.

Seemingly unconcerned about their destination, Jinto followed behind David as they walked back to the horses. “Do you have magic?”

“Yes,” David answered.

“What kind of magic?” Jinto slung his bag over his shoulder and trotted to a one of the little Athosian horses, pulling her reins and following behind David as they collected their own mounts. 

“I work with plants,” David explained. 

“Can you tell what they’re feeling when you eat them?” Jinto grabbed the saddle horn and pulled himself onto his horse’s back.

“I’ve never tried,” David admitted. He shot Evan a look that begged for rescue, and Evan did the best he could not to laugh as he tugged Thorn toward the edge of the crowd.

~*~

The road had dwindled behind them after Mearn, the farthest settlement from Atlantis. The houses were empty and outlying fields pounded flat from the feet of soldiers and horses who’d passed by days before. Evan hoped that the villagers had been able to salvage some small portion of their crops before they’d left, though he guessed that the Satedans and Athosians had thought them fallow, there was so little underfoot.

When they reached the base of the mountains, Evan felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The last station. He grinned. And it used the power of the heat beneath them. He brushed it with the barest of touches; it swirled, a blazing molten flow that ran underground before surfacing at the volcano on the Satedan side of the border. 

It had made his magic hum when he’d visited before; now it all but sang. The others caught his cheerful mood and made short work of preparing supper, checking the horses, and replenishing their supply of water. Jinto had proved to be an endless fount of energy. Their second evening with the boy, David had remarked wearily that Jinto could probably supply the entire city’s energy needs for a year. Evan had laughed, but quietly, because the subject of their conversation had finally fallen asleep after both Evan and David had told him every story that they knew.

But he was also a hard worker, and Evan watched as he carefully made his way toward the fire with an armload of fuel so huge he almost couldn’t wrap his arms around it. He dropped the load and sprinted off for more.

Jason started to call after him, probably to say that they had enough for the night, but Nate punched him in the shoulder and hissed, “Let him run around for a while. With any luck he’ll actually fall asleep tonight.”

Evan chuckled and, passing David with an armful of water bottles, leaned up for a quick kiss. They might not have any time alone together, but Evan was determined to take every moment that he could. 

He was just kneeling beside a small creek and uncapping the first bottle when he heard a sharp cry from Bark far overhead. It was the call that meant danger, and Evan looked up, seeking Jinto, just as the boy let out a shriek of fear. Evan was on his feet in seconds, running toward the sound, heart racing. The Athosian was surrounded by a half dozen Wraith, who were looking at him with raw hunger. They seemed to be deciding which one of them would take the prize, but Evan had no intention of letting them.

The first Wraith sank into the ground, buried up to its chest and arms pinned at its side. As he thrust his magic toward the rock near another, an arrow sank into the second creature’s chest. Quickly switching tactics, Evan sent his rock spear into the back of another instead. It drove him to the ground, where rock quickly flowed into its mouth. It thrashed and stilled as Evan hurled a boulder at another’s head. He spared a glance at Jinto; the boy was crouched with his hands over his head, but one of the creatures was reaching to grab him with an angry hiss. An arrow stuck in its shoulder, jerking it back, but Evan knew it wouldn’t slow the thing for long. With no time to think, Evan cracked his second spear into several small, sharp pieces and hurled them at the Wraith. They struck with enough force to throw it backwards, where it landed in the dirt with a dull thud.

One last Wraith was still crawling feebly, despite the arrows that had pierced it in a dozen places. Evan simply opened the ground beneath it and let the soil swallow it whole. He walked to Jinto and put his arms around the boy. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Eyes wide, Jinto looked up at him and said solemnly, “Is this what war is like?”

Evan couldn’t bring himself to lie. “War is even worse. Think of how many soldiers you were with.” Jinto nodded and stood, and Evan was proud to see that his steps didn’t falter. The boy leaned over one of the corpses and pulled a small knife from its stomach, but turned away as he wiped the blade quickly on the Wraith’s jacket. He sheathed the knife in his belt and stood, staring into the distance toward the city.

With his huge longbow strung across his back, David passed Evan, touching his arm briefly before enveloping Jinto in a hug. Jinto would be all right, Evan thought. He’d done as well as any of them had in their first encounters with the Wraith, and had even drawn blood. Evan would be sure to tell Halling of his son’s bravery.

The creature that Evan had trapped was howling its displeasure, still struggling against imprisonment. Evan stood before it, well out of reach of its teeth. “Why are you here?” Evan demanded. They’d not passed a village or town in days, and the Athosians and Satedans knew better than to build within the reach of the volcano. And the Taranians, whose land was only miles to the southeast, lived mostly along the River Kesh or the coast.

Its only reply was a vicious snarl, and Evan was tempted to plant his boot in its face. He doubted it would make the creature tractable, however, and settled on a bargain instead. He crouched so that their heads were level. “I’m not going to kill you,” he told it, quelling a flash of protest at the thought. “You’re trapped, yes, but I’m sure you can dig your way out in a few days.” Evan solidified the soil around it, just to ensure it wouldn’t be sooner.

“What do you want?” The Wraith’s voice was deep and serpentine, and it raised the hair on the back of Evan’s neck. Though he knew that they could speak, the reality of it suddenly made them seem more than the cunning beasts he’d thought them to be.

“I want to know why you’re here, and how many more of you came this way.” Evan didn’t flinch when Ben’s sword crossed his shoulder and came to rest at the Wraith’s neck.

The Wraith only gave the barest of glances toward the blade, but it seemed to have had the desired effect. “We came from the mountains to feed.”

“If you were heading to Atlantis, you’ve got a terrible sense of direction.” He scrutinized its features; this was the first time he’d had time to study one up close. The yellow eyes and flat nose, he’d noticed. An indentation on either cheek reminded him of a pit viper, and he wondered if the Wraith could sense body heat. Otherwise it was remarkably human.

“Not Atlantis,” it hissed. “That feeding ground is for the First Queen and her hive. We awoke here, pleased to find this land unguarded, for our hunger is great.”

Evan sucked in a breath. They hadn’t come from the mountains to the west, but from this range. And it was, as he said, unguarded, with the entire standing armies of both Sateda and Athos well on their way to Atlantis. “How many?” he barked.

“Many.” A sly smile told Evan that he wasn’t going to get a better reply than that. Then, as if emboldened by this small victory, it added, “And more awaken even now.”

Evan stood, and it took all the strength he had to turn his back on the creature. Taking in the others’ bleak expressions, he knew they’d heard the entire exchange. “Let’s move on. There’s a bit of daylight yet.”

Mulling over the Wraith’s words as he rode, Evan concluded that the Wraith couldn’t have traveled very far out of the mountains yet; there was no reason for the small party to have been wandering days from the nearest village if they’d already found a population of Athosians or Satedans. Bitlan, Ronon’s birthplace and barely a day’s ride to the northeast, had almost as many people as the whole of Lantea. And yet it had known that they would encounter no resistance. With a mental shrug, Evan decided Wraith from the western range must have traveled here to wake this other “hive.” 

They sat watch in pairs that night, Jinto clutching the bow that David had made them while they rode. Though his eyes darted nervously toward every sound in the dark, Evan didn’t hold it against him. He’d felt the same after his first fight with the Wraith. Though the bulk of Evan’s attention was on the landscape, he mulled over their possible courses of action.

There was no way to get word to Ronon and Teyla about the Wraith creeping toward their people. Though David had reclaimed as many arrows from the corpses as Nate, Jason, or Ben, he wasn’t equipped to travel back alone. Adding Ben and Jinto would hardly make much difference, and he couldn’t spare Nate or Jason. It was out of his hands, though he felt guilty all the same. He sent a prayer to the ancestors that somehow things would turn out.

~*~

Evan could feel the volcano well before they reached it. Its power surged like a hungry wolf, eager to escape. Even though they wouldn’t reach its slopes--it lay on the other side of the Kesh, and the border--it pulled him like a compass needle. 

The station was buried just on the Lantean side of the border, not within the volcano itself, but in one of the underground tunnels where the magma roiled and pulsed. He knew he sounded overly eager, but didn’t care, when he turned to Nate and Jason and said, “Sorry, it’s all rock this time.”

Jason leaned against Nate’s shoulder and grinned. “No complaints here.” 

“Go ahead and make camp,” Evan suggested. “I’m going to go up a little farther.” He gave Thorn a pat, encouraging the horse to find what grazing he could, and started climbing up the steep path that led toward the mountain range proper. 

David followed, a reassuring presence at his side. Hefting his bow, he said, “I’ll stand guard while you work.” Evan took his hand in quiet thanks, and when they reached a small outcropping that had a good view of the volcano in the distance, Evan sank to the ground and pulled David down beside him.

“We’re alone,” Evan remarked with a smile. He leaned over to kiss David, tangling his hands in the other man’s hair. 

“Mmm,” David agreed. Still, he pushed Evan away gently after a moment and sighed. “As much as I enjoy kissing you, you need to finish this so you can get some food and sleep.”

Mirroring David’s sigh, Evan said, “I know. But I wanted to do that first.”

“Well you did, so get to work,” David joked.

Huffing a quiet laugh, Evan reached out tentatively with his magic. As much as he might need to repair the power station, he had to be careful not to get pulled in to the voracious appetite the magma represented. He wondered idly if a certain type of plant drew David in the same way, or a certain kind of metal Jason or Nate. He’d have to remember to ask. He reached a tendril of power toward the station, and--

He was no longer Evan. He was a crystalline vessel of power and of heat, the power to raise mountains or crumble them, to break the land into fragments and send the paltry makings of man tumbling into the chasms. His skin burned and crackled and his roar was the rumble of an earthquake. Then his senses stretched wide, and he felt the roots of the forest pierce his skin and the river cut his bones. He felt the weight of stone walls and buildings on his back, the press of cities on his spine. 

Some small part of him rebelled, thrashing against the onslaught. He felt hoofbeats, the rhythm of an army marching. _I am Evan Lorne!_ he screamed, while beneath him jagged claws scratched against his eyelids.

Wraith, Evan thought, and at the same time: it’s not the power station doing this. Neither is it the volcano. Those things were separate, those things were not Evan Lorne. The power was Evan’s, it was the city’s, it was John’s and Rodney’s and David’s. 

It filled him completely, and the part of him that could still reason wondered if this had been what magic was like for their ancestors. With it, he could construct a town in minutes, maybe even a city the size of Atlantis, though of stone. As the power roiled through him, he considered the possibility. It would be beautiful. 

But no. There were better uses for such power.

He had a choice to make. The Wraith that had slept for thousands of years in these mountains, warmed by the heat of them and made sluggish and slow to wake, were nonetheless awakening. He could feel the hive, now, the warrens and cubbyholes that had hidden them all this time.

Evan could repair the station--with the amount of power coursing through him right now, it would only be a matter of thinking it so.

Or he could destroy the Wraith. He could sense them, hear them, and he’d been right; they hadn’t gotten far. But to fail at his quest after so long--

But he hadn’t failed. The magic in him now was proof of that. 

He knew what he needed to do. 

He did it.

Opening his eyes with a moan, Evan thought that he was still caught up in the magic’s hold, then realized that the ground beneath him was indeed shaking. David lay sprawled at his side; plants and flowers of every shape and color nearly covered his form. Evan grabbed at him even as he sat up and rubbed a hand across his face. “Uh. What happened?”

“No time now,” Evan yelled, pulling David to his feet. “We need to run!” He emphasized the last word with a shove to get David moving. They slid and jumped down the slope, stumbling every time the mountain beneath them shifted.

When their camp came into view, Evan saw that they’d been caught in the magical chaos as much as Evan had. Metal spikes, some half melted, thrust from the landscape in every direction. Jinto wove between them, chasing the horses.

“I couldn’t control my magic,” David said breathlessly as they skidded to a stop. “It was so strong.”

“I know,” Evan said, ducking around a spike and whistling for Thorn. To Jason, who was looking from the mountains to the twisted cook pot in his hands in shock, Evan said, “Leave it! Get the horses and ride!”

“The fire...” Nate kicked dirt into the flames, and Evan laughed wildly.

“Trust me, it won’t matter.” Thorn butted David’s horse and nipped at her sides until she was near enough for Evan to grab the reins. He passed them to the other man and pulled himself onto Thorn’s back. Deciding the packhorses would have to be left to follow or run on their own, he wheeled and darted in front of Jinto’s horse, making her balk long enough for the boy to leap into the saddle.

He turned toward Atlantis and gave a wild yell, a tiny part of him wondering how hard he’d have to pay for this later. But it didn’t matter now. 

“What did you do?” David asked, casting a glance over his shoulder. Evan looked back too, knowing what he’d done but curious to see it. Ash billowed from the volcano’s caldera and lava streamed down its sides, faster, he hoped, than the Wraith in its path could outrun it.

“He collapsed the Wraith caves and set off the volcano!” Ben answered in a gleeful holler. He tapped his head with a wink, and Evan was too happy to care that the man had read his mind.

Jinto whooped, caught up in the manic mood of the Lanteans, who were dazed by the sheer amount of power coursing like a river in full flood, where before it had been a creek. A trickle. Evan added his voice to the exuberant celebration and spurred Thorn to a gallop.


	11. Chapter 11

John paced the western wall, biting his lip as the first line of Genii soldiers appeared from between the trees. He carried a small--well, he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it connected to the communications array in the city, and he could speak into it and be heard by those inside. “They’re here,” he said now, tucking the device into a pocket and not bothering to wait for a reply. Rodney’s answer would come, if it came at all, in the form of the shield being activated. 

In the last few moments before battle, he hoped for a thousand things. That the lack of power from the stations didn’t mean that Evan’s party had been taken or killed. That Ladon Radim’s group of Genii would join the battle on their side. That the Satedans and Athosians had gotten their message in time. There was more, but those were the most pressing. And all things he had no control over. With effort, he pushed them aside and raised his arm. 

He was in charge of the archers and catapults over the western gate, while Stephen and Elizabeth readied cavalry and foot soldiers near the others, should the walls be breached. The siege might last days, or it might last weeks. It all depended on their magic.

The first attack would be a test, Stephen had said. The Genii would want to know the range of that magic, and as the first grey-clad soldiers advanced, John almost pitied them, for surely they realised that they marched to their death.

Still, he waited until they were well within range of the city’s defenses; no need to let the Genii know the true reach of their abilities just yet. Hoping to scare them off but prepared to do more, John pulled at the air with his magic and lifted three of the glass orbs Laura and Neil had made, then flung them toward the soldiers. For added effect, he danced them in an intricate pattern before hurling them at the ground so that they knew he aimed and missed with precision, not because he couldn’t reach them if he wanted to.

When the billows of dirt settled, nothing had changed. The soldiers at the front crouched low, but they hadn’t stopped their advance. John scowled. Their guess about the army must be right--these men understood that the Wraith followed behind them, and their only means of survival would be to take the city. Dying here was the better alternative. 

So be it. John reached with a twist of air for another of the globes, this one a signal to the men at the catapults that the enemy was in range. They’d had their warning; he wouldn’t miss again.

It seemed like days, but was more like hours before there was a lull in the noise and confusion. John sank wearily to sit against the stone parapet, the sun in his eyes telling him that it was, amazingly, still morning. He’d had reports of a concentrated attack on the north gate, where the Genii had gathered siege weapons and built towers, presumably ferrying the materials down the Hyppon River like they had last time. 

But the city remained unbreached, at least as far as he knew. Their greatest disadvantage was that Atlantis was so huge that they simply didn’t have the numbers to guard every square foot of the walls. He’d heard Elizabeth bellowing instructions through one of the communication devices as her section fended off an attack in the south. Others reported in from other positions to the southwest and northwest, and finally from the east. The Genii army seemed endless.

“John, are you there?” Rodney’s voice crackled from John’s pocket, and he pulled out the little metal box to reply that he was. “Good. That’s good.” The relief in Rodney’s voice brought a smile to John’s lips. “I think I might have found something.”

When Rodney didn’t continue, John asked, “What?”

“It’s complicated,” came the answer. “Too complicated to tell you right now. But I wanted to tell you.”

“Something,” John repeated. “With the shield?”

“No, with the stove in the kitchens,” Rodney huffed, the eye roll apparent in his tone. “Of course with the shield!”

“We’re changing shifts in a bit,” John answered. “I’ll come down.”

But all Rodney showed him an hour later was a confusing display of lines on a black pane of glass. “What is that?” John asked. 

“It’s like the communication devices,” Rodney answered, “but visual instead of auditory.” He grinned, as though he expected John to make sense of it. Tired as he was, the lines weren’t just obscure, they were starting to blur in front of his eyes. Rodney sensed how weary John was, or maybe he actually looked as bad as he felt. “To communicate with the systems,” Rodney added. “Including the power stations. I think.” 

“Good, Rodney,” John said, squeezing his shoulder. Rodney beamed, and John didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was too tired to work out the implications. But Rodney was happy with whatever he’d done and he left him to it, heading to his room for some much needed rest.

~*~

The Genii learned quickly that their odds improved when they sent smaller groups at seemingly random stretches of wall. It took time for the Lanteans to discover them and respond; within days, the walls were chipped, cracked, or even partially crumbled in several places. If they left men to guard the weak areas, the Genii simply made more somewhere else. 

“We’re having to spread out pretty thin,” John said as he sat with Elizabeth, Stephen, and Rodney at the conference table. “We just don’t have the numbers to guard the entire wall.” He sighed and brushed a weary hand through his hair.

“They’ll breach it eventually.” Stephen shrugged, as if it were of no consequence. “We have enough men standing ready, and with the communication devices we can react quickly when it happens.”

“At this point they just need to secure an entry for the Wraith, not actually take the city,” Rodney reminded them. “Their plan might have gotten messed up, but it could still work.”

“Not if you get the shield up,” John said, giving Rodney a pointed look. “What happened with the system display you found? Any progress?”

“We need a few more days,” Rodney said. “No more than a week.”

“Can we hold out that long?” Elizabeth asked, though surely she knew as well as any of them.

They wanted reassurances from him, John realized. Even his advisors, who were more experienced in fighting the Genii, and in dealing with a siege. He tried to sound confident when he answered, “As long as we can keep up our communications, we can hold out as long as we need to.”

His words were true, up to a point. They still had enough men that the patrols along the walls could work in shifts. They had plenty of stored food, and Katie promised more would be ready soon. The armory was overflowing, despite what they’d already thrown at the Genii. They could hold, so long as nothing changed.

And for a week, nothing did. The Genii attacked; the Lanteans fought back; Rodney worked on the shield; Elizabeth and Stephen took turns organizing the defense, and John was ordered--as much as he could be ordered--to stay out of the fighting. Though he felt like a coward, he couldn’t argue against the reasoning; if Atlantis fell, the Lanteans would need a leader more than ever.

That was how Rodney worded it, and Elizabeth and Stephen, too. John might have argued regardless, but for a strange almost-whisper in the back of his mind. A voice that he realized he’d been hearing since the city’s power supply had started filling again, one that was more than the nudges and vague emotions he knew as the city. Atlantis was trying to _talk_ , and she felt like she was _so close_ ; if only there were enough _power...._ And Rodney, for all that he’d spent as much time now in the chair as John ever had, didn’t hear it. Only John. And so he stood at the top of a tower that opened to the sky, where he could watch the fighting and throw the occasional fire or lightning ball, completely safe from the invading army. Watching, but also trying to listen.

John paced the tower now, glaring down at the enemy soldiers as though his anger and frustration were a weapon. Though the Wraith hadn’t arrived, they must be Freyr-cursed close, and the Genii would be desperate to get into the city. He leaned against the railing and felt another ghostly brush of the city in his mind. When his communication device activated, he thought for a moment it was the city, and he snorted when he recognized the voice. “There’s a group of refugees to the east of the Genii encampment,” Laura reported. 

Though he knew the information was meant for Stephen or Elizabeth, John headed to the nearest transporter and tapped the screen to take him close. It was only a minute’s jog until he reached the soldiers walking the wall and staring east. He climbed to the top and squinted, considered getting Radek, then realized there wouldn’t be enough time. The Genii were already reacting, forming units on horseback that could run the refugees down in moments. 

“Could be a trick,” Laura said, leaning on the parapet next to him. 

“If it’s not, they’re all going to be dead,” another soldier replied. 

The first horses were starting to turn, the Genii soldiers on their backs saluting whoever had just given them the order to meet the incoming group. “Let’s keep them alive until we know,” John said. He lashed out with a whipcord of air, knocking the lead soldier off of his horse. The men and women around him followed suit, striking with whatever power they possessed to drive the Genii away and make a clear pathway to the gate.

The refugees, who had gathered in a huddle on the road, saw their chance and bolted toward the city. One of them fell to a Genii arrow, and another to the sword of a soldier who had escaped the magical onslaught. John concentrated and pushed, and the soldiers on either side of the road staggered back, some of them beating their fists against the barrier he’d created. 

The refugees quickened their pace, close enough now to see their terrified faces. “They’re from Bole,” the man next to Laura said. “Look--that’s Kel Davis.” At that, the Lanteans redoubled their efforts. By the time the refugees reached the gate, John was holding off the Genii, able to keep them back long enough for the few dozen ragged people to squeeze through when it was opened.

John trotted back down the steps just as Stephen appeared with a group of soldiers from around the corner of the nearest buildings. “What’s going on?” he demanded, striding toward them as the gates shut again. John let his magic go and turned to the refugees. He opened his mouth to reply, and the city said, _Perimeter defenses active. Starting scan...._

“What?” John paused, not sure he’d understood.

“I asked what was going on,” Stephen repeated. 

“Not you,” John replied. “Atlantis.” Stephen glared, and John didn’t try to explain. Instead he said, “Refugees from Bole.”

Stephen frowned. “They could be Genii--” He flicked his hand, and the soldiers with him fanned out in a semicircle. Then he seemed to notice the injuries; several of the newcomers were wounded, and one man had an arrow shaft protruding from his shoulder. “Escort them to the hospital,” he directed his men. To John he said, “You’re not supposed to be down here.”

“I know, but there wasn’t time to wait.” That only earned him another scowl. John stayed where he was even after Stephen turned to follow his men. He was sure Stephen would have given the same orders, though he wouldn’t have had the magic to succeed. It was good that John had gotten there first; it wasn’t that he was just itchy to do something or straining against the restrictions his advisors had put him under. He was needed here.

“You really should go back inside,” Laura said apologetically. “You made your point.”

John sighed. “I know.” He turned toward the city as his comm activated again. 

“John, there’s some kind of alarm going off down here. What happened?” Rodney’s voice sounded more impatient than worried, but then John remembered the city’s whisper when the gates had been open.

“What does it say?” John glanced at Laura, who looked grim.

“Something about...’unrecognized’? The rest is sort of a jumble that doesn’t really make sense.”

“Thor,” John cursed. “I think we just let the Genii into the city.”

~*~

“How many of the refugees are unaccounted for?” Stephen asked. He paced in front of the table where a map of the city lay uncurled, the walls marked where the Genii had caused the most damage. 

“Six,” John answered, standing with his arms crossed and looking at Carson so that he didn’t have to watch his advisor walk the same stretch of carpet over and over. “Most of them _were_ refugees from Bole.”

“And you didn’t think to check--” Stephen paused his pacing long enough to throw his arms wide for emphasis.

“There wasn’t time,” John answered calmly. He didn’t add that Stephen hadn’t thought to check, either. 

“I’ve healed the wounded and sent them off to Chuck to see about rooms and food,” Carson said. “We’ve got a guard on the wounded Genii.” He stood, no doubt feeling the tension in the room and wanting to be elsewhere. “So if that’s all...” John nodded, and the healer all but ran through the door.

The worst part was that John _had_ been concerned about a Genii ruse. But they’d recognized some of the refugees, and the Genii outside the walls had attacked with everything they had. Their injured soldier attested to that. He should have known that they weren’t beyond such things if it meant getting people inside the city. They’d posted guards near most of the important areas and some that weren’t, fearing to draw attention to their most vulnerable places. Anyone who could be spared was searching through the sections of the city that had been prepared for the rest of the refugees, though the imposters could be anywhere.

“The city might be able to find them,” John suggested, thinking of how it had scanned the arrivals and recognized that they weren’t Lantean. But time spent figuring out how to do that was time taken away from working on the shield.

“The city,” Stephen snorted. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you’re hearing something,” he added when John glared at him. “But we have to proceed under the assumption that we won’t have a shield, or enough magic to hold off the attack. If it does work,” his expression told John that he considered that only a faint possibility, “we’ll still have to deal with the Wraith. But if it doesn’t, we’d better be ready for when the Genii get into the city, because it’s going to happen sooner rather than later.” Without waiting for John to answer, Stephen strode from the room, leaving John alone to stare at the map and wonder how the city might show him the answer.

Deciding that the chair was his best hope, John took the nearest transporter. He hadn’t interacted with the city for days, ever since Rodney had claimed both the chair and the adjacent room with its glass screens and interfaces as his own. He was there now, tapping furiously at a flat panel that lit up under his fingers. Radek and Peter worked beside him at stations of their own.

After explaining what he needed, the three of them immediately got into a debate about whether it was possible, Rodney insisting that the system interfaces could be adapted to show a map of the city and its inhabitants and Radek arguing that they couldn’t afford the loss of time and power.

Peter settled it by saying, “If the Genii figure out how to sabotoge the power lines or manage to destroy the wall from the inside, we’ll be out of both time and power anyway.” 

“Could they?” John asked, feeling a thread of alarm run down his spine. “They have no idea how the city works.”

“They don’t really have to understand it to damage something vital,” Rodney answered. “Which makes finding them a priority.” He turned to John and looked him over slowly, head to toe. Lately that had become less of the romantic gesture it once was, merely intending to ferret out hidden injuries or lack of sleep. Either of which would result in a demand to go to bed, which was also not a romantic suggestion these days. 

John sighed, wishing things could go back to the way they had been. The more practical side of him wished that Atlantis would give up her secrets without having to fight for every scrap. “I’ll have a go at the chair,” he told the men. “I still say she responds better to direct requests than to whatever you do with these system interfaces.”

As he turned to leave, John heard Rodney mutter, “They’re the same thing. Atlantis doesn’t have a preference.” John smirked. Rodney might think that Atlantis was an impersonal intelligence, but he knew better.

He sat in the chair, and as though to confirm his thoughts about it, he felt a wave of welcome from the city, and the impression that she’d missed him. “Told you,” John said, leaning back and closing his eyes. _Can you find the Genii?_ John asked. There was a pause, and a reply something like _Unknown term/Genii/request not recognized._ He thought about the scan at the south gate, and the city responded with _Unrecognized human presence/non-Lantean._

 _Yes,_ John answered. _Non-Lanteans. Where?_ He wondered briefly how she knew, but didn’t particularly care as long as the information was accurate. A diagram of the city sped through his mind so quickly it made his stomach roll. Six yellow dots appeared in scattered locations, two of which he recognized immediately. The others, he thought, might be in residential areas. 

Deciding to take advantage of the city’s helpful mood, John asked, _Activate shield?_ After another pause, Atlantis answered _Power below minimum level._ He shrugged and sat up. It was worth a try. At least he knew where to find the Genii.

He raised his ever-present communication device and said, “This is John. Is there anyone out near the training field? One of the Genii infiltrators is out there.” He started down the hall toward the transporter, passing by the room where Rodney and the others worked and giving them a wave to let them know he was done in the chair.

“Did you say near the training grounds?” That was Laura, who sounded out of breath, like she might be running. “Our fire globes are stored there.”

“Ancestors,” John muttered, increasing his pace. The Genii might not understand how the city functioned, but they surely knew enough about the magical weapons by now, having seen them at work. 

He emerged at the northwest side of the city just in time to hear the explosion. He swore again and started running. By the time he reached the outer doors, smoke was billowing from a gap in the walls, guttering fire visible against the darkening sky. The communicator was pointless--everyone would have heard that--and so he readied his magic, prepared to finally engage the Genii face to face.

Though there was already a swarm of Lantean soldiers at the break in the wall, the Genii outside had started to make progress around them at the edges. Hardly thinking, he pushed them back, though the effort would only result in a momentary gain against the sheer numbers of enemy soldiers. 

It was chaos within moments. John lost track of how many Genii he brought down, concentrating his efforts on those who broke through the line of men led by Stephen. According to the plans they’d made for just such a scenario, Elizabeth would be ready with several units of her own should the Genii break through anywhere else, now that the bulk of their forces were concentrated here. And according to those same plans, John was supposed to be tucked safely away watching from one of the towers--something he had no intention of doing. 

At one point, John found himself fighting at Laura’s side. She called out a brief apology that they’d used her constructs to bring down the wall, and emphasized how angry she was about it by shooting a gout of flame at a line of advancing Genii. John grinned and added a burst of air to the fire, which flared into an inferno that drove the men stumbling back. “Nice!” Laura yelled. “One more time?” She swiveled toward another group, and John realized they’d been pushed back to the center of the practice field already. With a glance to ensure that there were none of their own men near, John added his magic to hers and they swept the fire in a wide arc.

He grinned at Laura as she moved off, turning to see where his efforts were most needed. Then an arrow thudded into his hip, and he realized he wasn’t wearing armor. “Thor’s balls,” he muttered as the pain flared. He took a step and stumbled, going to his knees. He held his breath and broke the shaft, emptying his lungs with a hiss. 

“John!” 

Someone had noticed, John thought. Good. He tried to rise, but the muscles in his leg wouldn’t respond. “I’m okay,” he said as a hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up, and just managed to gasp out “Aiden?” before he felt something _pulling_ at his magic. Not that, he begged silently. Not now. Aiden had been able to suck magic from Rodney before escaping from the hospital, and he was doing the same now to John. 

Trying to pull away, John only succeeded in falling to his back. Aiden followed, crouching over him. There was a tug on the arrow buried in his hip, a sharp burst of pain that nearly caused him to black out, and then...it felt like his own magic was pouring into the wound, searing the muscle from the bone outward and forcing it to mend. He screamed, tried to roll, but Aiden held him fast. 

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said. “It’s how my healing works now.” 

John forced his eyes open. Aiden was trying to help, if he didn’t kill John in the process. 

Desperately fighting the pull toward unconsciousness that often accompanied serious healing--and this was a twisted, horrible version of that--John felt his connection to his magic grow thin, as though it were a frayed rope ready to snap. He tried to hold on, terrified of losing it altogether. 

“The Wraith are coming,” Aiden said. “They’re only a few hours away.” And then he pulled his hand away, breaking the connection. 

The pain was gone, John’s wound healed, but he would have preferred to live with an arrow in his hip for the rest of his life than with the emptiness he felt where his magic had been. And Atlantis--he couldn’t feel the city. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he realized just how much of a presence she’d been, now that she was gone.

~*~

John awoke with a gasp, expecting pain but feeling only tired. Sleep, he thought. Sleep is good, Rodney keeps telling me I need to sleep more. But there were too many things to do, he just didn’t have the time. “Aiden!” He sat up as everything came back in a rush.

It took a moment for John to get his bearings. He was in an unfamiliar cot that, he realized, must be in the barracks near the training field. Near where--

_John._

Near where the fighting was, and he had no idea how long he’d been out, if the Genii had managed to take the city, if--

_John._

He blinked, reached for his comm, then realized... _Atlantis?_

_Yes, John. You have been unconscious approximately four hours. Would you like a status update?_

It _was_ Atlantis, and she was speaking clearly, and she knew his _name,_ and it was strange and wonderful, and he wanted to ask her so many things.

_Perimeters have been breached in section 23A and 15D. Defensive counter-measures will be effective in approximately twelve minutes. Power level at 96 percent.”_

_Defensive counter-measures?_

_The shield, John._

“Rodney, I love you.” John stood shakily. He had no idea what Rodney had done, but he knew it had to have been him. Walking to the door, he realized that his hip felt as though it had never been injured. He owed Aiden for that, and he reached for his magic, and it was there a hundred-fold, power that he’d never even imagined was possible.

With a sudden shock he was reminded of Aiden’s words. The Wraith were close, were probably at Atlantis by now. He strode into the hallway and nearly ran into Neil, who was looking toward the doors that led outside and clutching a crossbow to his chest.

“What’s going on?” John asked, making the man jump.

“Thank the ancestors you’re awake,” Neil said, lowering the weapon and straightening his shoulders. “Uhm, let’s see...since you were knocked out, the Genii pulled down another part of the wall, but Elizabeth was there to block them. And they started to break through here, but the Genii encampment to the south--the one that’s been sitting there not doing much--turned on those Genii and started fighting. I heard someone yelling Ladon Radim’s name, so I guess he was waiting around to see what happened.” Neil took a breath and continued, “And then the Wraith came and hit the Genii from the other side, and then the Satedans and Athosians showed up, and pretty much everyone started fighting the Wraith.”

“Even Kolya’s men?” John started walking toward the doors, counting down in his head. Nine minutes. 

Neil shrugged. “If there were any left, they’re following Radim now.”

John nodded. Ladon’s plan might not have gone the way he had expected, but the effect was the same. “Let them in,” he said. He had to laugh at Neil’s surprise. But it was the right thing to do, because even the Genii didn’t deserve to be annihilated by the Wraith.

“I think maybe everyone will listen better to you,” Neil said with a grin. 

“Oh. Right.” John grinned back, feeling giddy with the power that roiled within reach, waiting for him to use it. He turned from the doors and walked to the transporter instead. “Stay inside,” he told Neil as he chose a location. “It’s going to be over soon.”

John walked out onto the tower top where he’d spent so many hours watching the Genii bombard the walls. Neil was right; most of the fighting had moved back, beyond the Genii that were half in and half out of the city. The Lanteans who still fought did so from the tops of the remaining wall on either side, and it was obvious that they had no problem reaching the Wraith with the magic now at their disposal. 

There wasn’t much time. He sent a mental nudge at Atlantis and she responded so quickly that it wasn’t quite words; it was more like information appearing as memory, like he’d always known it. Seven minutes. Ninety eight percent. He knew the number of Genii inside the city as well as how many Satedans and Athosians had joined the battle at the eastern break near Elizabeth. Things were a little more vague on the outside; more Genii, more Athosians and Satedans, and Wraith. Many, many Wraith. Thousands.

And something more. A warning about using magic with the power levels so high; safety protocols put in place but left overridden during the last war. And...John paused. The city felt...sad? He wasn’t sure, but she seemed to be telling him goodbye.

He processed all of that in mere seconds, and decided what to do. Filling his lungs with as much air as he could, he pulled on his magic and felt it roar into him. Though he’d never done this before, he knew how. “This is John Sheppard!” His voice bellowed, carried outward and amplified by his magic, louder than the clash of battle and the screams of men and women. “Lanteans. Athosians. Satedans. Genii.” Movement ceased as soldiers heard his words across the city and beyond the walls. “Everyone get inside the city NOW!” 

Six minutes. He would have to hold off the Wraith for six minutes; longer, if the soldiers needed more time. But he was confident that he could do it, and he would do it, and he felt Atlantis pressing on him, warning him again, though she could see well enough that he had no choice.

The magic was beyond a roar now; beyond a raging flood. It was the power of the sun and the river and the ocean and the lightning. And the wind. And it was his, and what he used was the merest portion of what he could tap, if only he could stretch himself wide enough--

There was a shield, but it was his, not the city’s. It sprang up between the last of the retreating armies and the Wraith, and he felt them snarl and beat their fists against the air that had suddenly solidified--

And he only had to hold it for another three minutes, even as the power surged again--

And Atlantis was there, and she wrapped around him and held him in place, the mind that was John Sheppard, so that it wasn’t swept away, withdrawing the power from the other magic users in the city and channeling it through John instead, and she knew him--

And he knew her in all of her glory, and knew that her awareness would be brief, it wouldn’t last, it couldn’t--

Because the power was there, but they needed it for--

“RODNEY! NOW!”

John didn’t know if the words were carried with his magic, or through Atlantis, or if Rodney had only been watching the displays and reacted. 

The shield was glorious. It rose from the base of the walls to encompass the city in a shining aurora of light, shimmering with color. 

He heard a cheer from the men and women on the ground below. He heard Atlantis as her presence faded, the power to keep her truly aware draining into the shield. And she poured that power into the shield to keep them safe, her sons and daughters that had returned after so much time.

 _John_ she whispered one last time. And then: _I have a gift for you_ so quietly that he wasn’t sure he heard it, or perhaps it was a memory, for it was the same words she’d said all those years ago when he’d met her for the first time and she’d given him magic.


	12. Epilogue

“Father, what’s the name of that star pattern?” Jenna tugged at John’s sleeve, and he looked up from his books to glance out the window. He rose and stretched, rolling his shoulders, and extinguished the candle with a flick of his fingers so that they could see better. 

He swung his daughter onto his shoulders and she pressed her small hands against the glass. “We called that ‘Thor’s Hammer’ back in Chian.” He smiled, recalling how he’d asked his mother the same question long ago.

“Well, what do we call it here?” Jenna tugged on his ears, demanding an answer.

“Uh,” John said, thinking furiously to come up with something that would please her, “here we call it ‘Evan’s Hammer.’”

“Because of the way he squished the Wraith and saved the Athosians and Satedans!” Jenna exclaimed. He glanced at her reflection in the window; she looked at little too gleeful about that, and John decided he’d blame Ronon for his daughter’s bloodthirstiness. He hoped it was just a phase. 

“That’s right,” John agreed, and pointed to another cluster, inventing as he went along. “That one is the Shield of Atlantis. And that one there is, um, Ronon the hunter with his bow.” Other shapes were named “David’s tree,” “Jason’s Sword,” and “Teyla’s Mantle,” which required an explanation of what a mantle was. When he named another “The Control Chair,” he knew he’d gone too far, and he swung her to her feet before she could protest that he was making them up. “Time for bed.”

“Fly me,” she demanded. With a chuckle, John lifted her carefully with his magic and swung her once around the study, then out the door and down the hallway to her own room. She was still light enough for him to play her favorite game, but he didn’t think he’d have the strength for it much longer if she kept growing so quickly. Jenna laughed, and John marveled all over again that she was his.

His and Rodney’s; a gift from the city, a fulfillment of the last promise made by Atlantis when her power had surged like a raging flood. They’d found her weeks later in an empty section of the city, nestled in a glass-topped crib when they were chasing down the last of the sections that needed repair after it was over. From the moment John had laid eyes on her, he’d known, understanding at last the tender almost-whisper that had come from the city as Rodney had drained it of power in order to raise the shield.

He tucked her under the covers and she yawned sleepily. “Tell me about Atlantis,” she said, blinking to stay awake.

Sitting on the end of the bed, John smiled and said, “I came to Atlantis when I was just a boy, only a little older than you are now. I was lonely, and the city tried to make me happy by giving me magic. And I was happy, for a long time, but not just because of the magic. I had lots of friends, and I had your papa.”

“But then the Genii woke the Wraith up, and the magic almost ran out,” Jenna interrupted. 

“Yes, they did. And the Genii wanted us to go back to Chian, and the Wraith wanted to eat us.” He tickled her ribcage, and she giggled happily. “But your papa figured out how to fix our magic, and Evan and David and Laura and,” he drew a breath, knowing that she wouldn’t let him leave out any of her favorite aunts and uncles, “Nate and Jason and Ben and Neil rode all over the country in order to fix things before the Genii army could get to us.” 

Though Jenna seemed to be falling asleep, John knew from experience that trying to sneak out of the room in the middle of an unfinished story was futile. “But the Genii attacked before it was done. They got into the city, but the Athosians and Satedans arrived in the nick of time. And then your papa found a way to make the magic stronger.” It was the barest version of events, simplified for the understanding of a child. Rodney had realized that the way they’d configured the controls of the power stations was meant to gather power slowly; their ancestors had taken into consideration the immense amount of time that might pass before anyone returned. All Rodney had needed to do was to order the controls to open wide. 

John still remembered the rush of power that had burst into him when that had happened. For one glorious moment, he knew he’d be able to fly. At least until the power drained into the shield and dropped to levels within their ancestor’s established safety parameters. 

The Athosians and Satedans had taken refuge from the onslaught of Wraith, and they’d allowed the survivors of the Genii army to do the same. They hadn’t killed all of the Wraith in the days that followed, but they’d killed enough. And he’d looked for Aiden. He still looked, when he could.

“And?” Jenna kicked at John’s thigh from under the blankets. 

“And Atlantis raised her shield for us and kept us safe.” He wondered if she’d be content with that ending to the story tonight.

She wasn’t. “Will the magic be that strong again when I grow up?”

“Maybe,” John answered. They’d since left the controls at a more manageable level, gathering enough to run the city and use their magic freely, but not so much that it would stress the systems. It meant that Atlantis was only half-awake, but she was there, and her voice when he sat in the control chair was sometimes almost words, and sometimes John thought he heard the whisper of his name.

Jenna huffed. “I want to squish a mountain of Wraith when I’m older.” 

“Maybe someday,” John laughed. His daughter certainly seemed to have a knack for all kinds of magic. He feared the day that she figured out how much she could do; they had their hands full as it was. “When you grow up you can be a soldier if you want to,” John told her. “Or you can apply to be a member of the Council like me and papa.”

“And Uncle Evan and Liz and Stephen and Mary and Carson,” Jenna added. 

“Them, too,” John agreed. With the threat of the Genii and the Wraith all but gone, John had made some changes. With Teyla’s help, he’d slowly gotten everyone to agree that Lantea didn’t need a prince. It felt good to share the burden of leadership with others, and he’d never regretted it. His father even seemed to approve, and things between them were better. Not perfect, but enough. “Or maybe,” John whispered as Jenna’s eyes closed for good, “You can study the stars and give them names.”

He rose and turned toward the door, smiling when he saw Rodney’s outline in the frame. “You’re putting ideas in her head again,” Rodney said quietly. 

John stepped forward and put his arms around him. “But they’re good ones.”

“A soldier?” Rodney took his hand and tugged John back down the hallway.

“She adores Ronon.” John allowed himself to be pulled down onto the couch in the sitting room. “And anyway, we hardly need an army now,” he added, planting a kiss on Rodney’s temple. 

That earned him a snort from Rodney. “Did you hear that Evan and David are thinking of moving out to the country?” He snorted again, sounding baffled that anyone would want to live away from Atlantis.

“They deserve a little peace and quiet.” And so do we, John thought, reckoning it was about time they took Jenna on a tour of Lantea.

“You know, you could have given me more credit in the story,” Rodney said, nudging John in the ribs. “I’m the one who turned on the shield.”

“We named a constellation after you,” John replied, trying not to grin.

“You did?” Rodney sounded so pleased, John almost hated to spoil it.

Almost. “Yeah, we called it ‘Rodney’s Giant Ego.’”

“Oh, ha ha.” Rodney tried to pout, but after a moment he started to laugh. He pulled John into another kiss and they lay back together, looking out the window at the stars.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art For "When it All Ends, We'll Write Our History in the Sky" by Calcitrix](https://archiveofourown.org/works/530203) by [clwilson2006](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clwilson2006/pseuds/clwilson2006)




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